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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208081">Yes, I'm a Professional</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAuthor/pseuds/AnotherAuthor'>AnotherAuthor</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vics_fics/pseuds/vics_fics'>vics_fics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bludger to the Heart [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Bisexual Percy Weasley, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff, Healer Percy Weasley, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:53:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAuthor/pseuds/AnotherAuthor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vics_fics/pseuds/vics_fics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy Weasley has been checking off boxes his entire life. Prefect? Check. Head Boy? Check. Accomplished healer? Check. Head of Artefact Accidents before he turns 30? Check. </p><p>If only his love life was as easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Penelope Clearwater/Percy Weasley, Percy Weasley &amp; Weasley Family, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bludger to the Heart [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Unruly Patient</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was done in collaboration with @vic_writes to indulge in a Perciver rom-com. My part focuses on Percy's perspective and there will be six chapters! Updates on Fridays.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were many sounds in the world that Percy Weasley enjoyed. The soft scratching of a quill against paper, for example. Or the way his mother hummed when she was hanging laundry on the line in the backyard (a very different hum from when she was cooking, although Percy liked both). There were the dulcet tones on the Lorcan d’Eath CD that Percy had been gifted as a joke, but that he rather enjoyed. And he very much enjoyed the twelve chimes of the belltower at the church down the street from his flat every Sunday at noon, because it gave him an opportunity to check that his watch was running perfectly. </p><p> </p><p>A sound that Percy Weasley <em> did not </em> enjoy was that of his office door being opened. Perhaps he could use stronger language than that. In general, he was neutral about his office door being opened. After all, the office door opened when there were meetings to be had or paperwork to be completed, and Percy was quite good at doing his job. If the office door never opened, he couldn’t do his job. But at this moment, Percy Weasley disdained the sound of his door opening. He detested it. It was like nails on a chalkboard, a dying cat, or Fred singing in the shower. He’d been trying to finish this report <em> all morning </em> , and people had a nasty habit of interrupting him right as he was diving into a new chapter of his fundraising report. But when the younger Healer knocked politely (the door was already opened, Percy thought to himself, did they really need to knock <em> now </em>?), Percy repressed a sigh and looked up. </p><p> </p><p>“Healer Weasley, you’ve been assigned a new patient,” she smiled, as if delivering wonderful news. Percy reminded himself that was technically wonderful news. Well, for him. Not for whoever had gotten a nasty enough injury to summon the Head of Artefact Accidents. </p><p> </p><p>“Are they here now?” Percy tapped his quill against the top of its inkpot to rid it of excess liquid before resting it on his desk. “Or is this an upcoming case, Healer Matthews?”</p><p> </p><p>“In transport, a Puddlemere United player got injured in his match, they wanted a specialist to take a look,” Healer Matthews said, producing a manilla folder that looked a bit thicker than it should. Either a player with a long career or one who had gotten particularly reckless in a few short years. Going through his mental catalogue of Quidditch players, Puddlemere offered a few in each category. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Healer Matthews, bring them to Room… is 8A available to receive a new patient? I’d move the patient if they’re an overnight resident, of course.” He walked from behind his desk to retrieve the folder, since Healer Matthews was still standing at the door. (Why she hadn’t brought it straight to his desk, he didn’t know. Percy supposed the six foot walk was too treacherous a distance.) The room was available, and Percy began reviewing his patient’s medical history. </p><p> </p><p>He gave a cursory glance to the unfinished report before putting it away in a desk drawer to finish later. Taking a deep breath, he felt slightly guilty for his harshness with Healer Matthews. After all, it wasn’t <em> her </em>fault that he had to do a fundraising report. He only needed to do one a year, but it managed to be his worst assignment time and time again. Percy became a healer with the intent of mastering his field, but it was an unfortunate reality that fundraising was a part of that field. But back to work, he reminded himself. “Wood, Oliver,” Percy murmured, flipping through the papers. </p><p> </p><p>So it was a player with a long career <em> and </em>a reputation for recklessness. Percy had seen a few matches and didn’t need the well-stocked medical file to know that the Keeper was willing to throw himself off a broomstick at 1,000 feet in the air to stop a Quaffle. Even when he’d been the Gryffindor captain more than a decade earlier, Wood never failed to leave the field on a stretcher. As a younger prefect with plentiful house pride, Percy had been impressed at the age of 16. Now a trained healer, Percy cringed at the thought of how many bones Madam Pomfrey must have regrown in Wood’s body. </p><p> </p><p>Wood hadn’t visited St. Mungo’s in over a year, so Percy doubted he would take over as the man’s healer. A visit or two with Percy to get back on his feet -- or more appropriately, his broom. Walking down the halls, Percy theorized over what the injury could be. As a Department Head, he’d grown used to supervising and filling out paperwork. High-profile injuries -- particularly Quidditch injuries -- remained his specialty. Percy knew his interest in transportation-related injuries was unusual for someone in Artefact Accidents, and his supervisors had often told him as such. But Percy was far too talented at all areas of healing to be shunted off to a different department. So he kept climbing the ladder at St. Mungo’s. Even if there wasn’t obvious glory in the work he did, there was glory in the path his career would take. </p><p> </p><p>Percy could hear two men talking inside the private waiting area as he approached. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Percy knocked on the entryway and looked down at his clipboard to ensure there weren’t <em> two </em>patients on  his report. No, only one. “Mr. Oliver Wood?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need a response to know which was his patient. Oliver Wood’s curly brown locks and firm jaw were the same in person as on the sports page of the Daily Prophet. In terms of a medical injury, it was fairly obvious that Oliver Wood was the one in a Puddlemere United uniform still stained with mud, grass, and sweat and an elevated leg wrapped in tight bandages. </p><p> </p><p>“Will ye leave now?” Wood protested to the other man, who was in a Mediwizard’s uniform. As if suddenly remembering Percy was there, Wood offered a grin. “Mr. Wood is a wee bit formal. Call me Oliver.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oliver, I’m Healer Weasley,” he introduced himself. He didn’t mind a reduction in formality, most patients requested it. “And you are?” Percy turned to the other man. “The team’s Mediwizard, yes?” </p><p> </p><p>The Mediwizard, who introduced himself as Diggory, gave a brief summary of the injuries while the patient shifted uncomfortable in his wheelchair. The initial diagnostics reflected multiple breaks to the fibula and calcaneus -- probably a dislocation, Percy noted. It was a bludger hit to the lateral side of the ankle and Diggory was concerned the talus or another nearby bone could have a fracture that didn’t show up in the report. The Mediwizard said fragments appeared to be in the muscle fabric and he couldn’t stabilize it on the field with the level of swelling. Diggory was thorough, a trait that Percy appreciated. </p><p> </p><p>“And these are the only detected injuries?” Percy glanced at Oliver’s leg, which still featured pristine white bandages. That meant there was no bleeding, making his job easier. If the breaks had been compound fractures, Percy might have just vanished the bones and started from the beginning.  “Did you heal anything today or in the past few days?”</p><p> </p><p>“Minor scratching and bruising, all routine,” Diggory shook his head. “I gave him a mild painkiller. He has a very high tolerance, forewarning. For pain and for painkillers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Wood, are you currently taking any other medication not noted in your record?” Percy asked, pausing at the empty box on the intake form. Not hearing a response, Percy lowered his clipboard and looked at the patient, who was staring at him blankly with wide brown eyes. “Mr. Wood?”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver kept staring, a slight smile on his face. “Mr. Wood? Can you hear me?” Percy raised his voice slightly, frowning. </p><p> </p><p>The Quidditch player shook slightly as he snapped back to attention, “What?” Relaxing, he grinned, blinking slowly. “Sorry, long day.”</p><p> </p><p>That wasn’t good, especially from a Quidditch player fresh off the pitch. Diggory frowned, crossing his arms in concern as he considered his player. Percy decided to ask him first. “Did he show signs of a concussion?”</p><p> </p><p>Diggory shook his head, but narrowed his eyes at his player that suggested he wasn’t certain. “There was no indication of a concussion, but Wood has been hit in the head a few times before.”</p><p> </p><p>Diggory continued, “I have to go heal up some of our other players. Do you need anything else from me? He should be able to give his medical history that isn’t already on the record.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver interrupted, “I wasn’t knocked over my head, don’t ye worry.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy chose to ignore the comment, as it was precisely what a Quidditch player paranoid over being pulled from the team over a head injury would say. He preferred the testimony of a Mediwizard. Diggory started talking about a Quaffle possibly hitting the Keeper but was quickly interrupted. </p><p> </p><p>“A quaffle cannae cause brain damage, Diggory.” Oliver sounded disgruntled, shifting again in his seat. His leg wasn’t elevated enough, that was probably the cause. Or he had experienced head trauma and was nervous about the injury being reported to the Quidditch League.</p><p> </p><p>“Please continue, Mediwizard Diggory,” Percy said sternly, looking away from his patient. Diggory continued with the explanation of a Quidditch maneuver which resulted in the Keeper headbutting the Quaffle away from a hoop. It was unlikely to cause a concussion, but Percy would have to check to be certain. </p><p> </p><p>Diggory departed in a bit of a hurry, reminding the player to forward his medical report once it was completed. Now, Percy had a patient, his first all week. Even if he had a high pain tolerance, Wood grunted every time the wheelchair hit a bump. Percy considered asking about the injuries in greater depth, but saw a few staff looking on in interest. Most of his healers avoided the sensation of being “starstruck,” but the same could not be said for all of St. Mungo’s employees. It certainly wouldn’t reflect well on the hospital if negative medical news for the Puddlemere Keeper was leaked before Percy had even started his examination. </p><p> </p><p>Once in the treatment room, Percy shut and locked the door. He glanced between Oliver’s wheelchair and the waist-height examination table. The player’s leg appeared swollen even under the tight bandages, and Percy didn’t want him putting any pressure on that foot. With a flick of Percy’s wand, the table lowered. “Can you stand on your other foot?” </p><p> </p><p>Oliver practically leapt out of his seat like he was preparing to block a Quaffle, precariously hopping around on his remaining foot. Percy stepped forwards to balance him, catching him under his arms and gently guiding Oliver to rest on the table. Rather than grimacing from the pain that must have come from bringing the leg up, Oliver scrunched his nose. </p><p> </p><p>Percy turned back around, placing his file on the desk when Oliver spoke again. “Aye, are ye related to Fred or George Weasley?” </p><p> </p><p>Percy wanted to reply that if he was related to one twin, it was highly likely he was related to the other. Of course he was related to both, but that wasn’t relevant to whatever wound lay beneath the bandage, that was Percy’s focus now. </p><p> </p><p>“I do not discuss my personal matters in this professional setting, Mr. Wood.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oliver,” he corrected confidently, his grin still on his face like it had been cast with a permanent sticking charm. Percy briefly apologized and ordered him to lay back. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to elevate your leg with a suspension charm,” Percy said, cradling Oliver’s damaged leg. “I need to take down the rest of your medical history and ask you a few questions,” </p><p> </p><p>Oliver didn’t react when the leg was touched, which was either an excellent sign or a terrible one given the way he’d been shifting in the wheelchair. “What is your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”</p><p> </p><p>Percy turned expectantly to Oliver, who shrugged in response. “Mr. Wood? Are you having trouble focusing? I’ll run diagnostics for mild traumatic brain injury.”</p><p> </p><p>He’d have to report this, and it really would be a shame. Puddlemere United was in the running for the pennant, and he had tickets to an upcoming game. He would have bet that Puddlemere United would win -- of course, he probably still should make that bet with Ron. Otherwise, he’d be using insider information to win a sporting bet. At the same time, losing on purpose was unethical… </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not good at estimating that sort of thing-- used to the broken bones,” Oliver sighed. “Is it alright if I take some of my robes off?”</p><p>“I will assist you. Please do not jostle your leg,” Percy answered, reaching up to unclip the blue and yellow Quidditch robes and ease them off of Oliver’s shoulders. He sat up slightly, stretching his back until a soft series of pops came out. </p><p> </p><p>Oliver spoke up again. “Ye have the same colored hair as them, but don’t have their build. Did ye go to Hogwarts?”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t the first time a patient asked about one of his siblings or his parents. The Wizarding World was small and there were enough Weasley children to go around. Curse breakers, dragon tamers, businessmen, aurors, athletes, healers… chances were, you’d run into one of them. And the twins were only a year behind Percy in school, two years behind Oliver. Percy was fairly certain that the twins still spoke with their old Quidditch teammates, so he’d expect Oliver would recognize the last name. That didn’t change Percy’s response.  </p><p> </p><p>Percy sighed. “I have already mentioned--”</p><p> </p><p>Clearly displeased by the answer, Oliver interrupted, “I wanted to know yer credentials. That’s allowed-- to know yer education.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy paused for a moment, pursing his lips. “I suppose.” </p><p> </p><p>He looked at the Quidditch player again, who was now sitting up slightly and resting on his forearms. His hair was flattened in places by his helmet, which must have been left behind with the team, and the sweat had soaked through his jersey. “Do you want the next layer removed?” Percy inquired. “I can provide you with the patient robes.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, thank you,” Oliver laid back down, crossing his arms. “Just tired. Long game. So did ye go to Hogwarts?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Percy replied. He grabbed a stool and set it up by Oliver’s legs, watching as the Quidditch player shifted them again. It was bothering him, that much was obvious. Tapping the clipboard against the edge of the table, Percy continued questioning him. “Date of birth?”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver hesitated again and Percy wondered if he should have told Mediwizard Diggory to stay. But Oliver answered correctly, with March 15, 1976. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you name the current Minister of Magic?”</p><p> </p><p>“What was yer house?” Oliver was staring at him again, his head tilted to the side. He had rather nice brown eyes, not too far from his brothers’ color. Though Percy thought Oliver’s eyelashes were much nicer and longer than anyone in his family’s. </p><p> </p><p>Oliver’s nice eyes didn’t distract Percy from how unnecessary the question was. “Oliver, that is not relevant to this examination.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are ye a Slytherin?”</p><p> </p><p>Percy shuddered and immediately regretted it. House bias in medicine, of course, should be avoided at all costs and Percy had never treated a patient differently whether they’d worn green, blue, yellow, or red. But the 11-year-old Gryffindor inside of Percy occasionally broke through his neutral demeanor before being forced back down. </p><p> </p><p>“Gryffindor, knew it,” Oliver gave a smug grin. Aha, the grin could change. That meant there wasn’t a permanent sticking charm. It did mean that Oliver Wood was overconfident and probably egotistical in addition to being stunningly handsome. Best that the bludger had hit his ankle instead of his face. </p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Wood--”</p><p> </p><p>“Oliver-- Ollie actually,” Oliver winked, his grin not fading in the slightest. Percy tried not to roll his eyes as Oliver continued badgering him about Quidditch, Hogwarts, and his brothers. It went from innocent inquiries to bordering on begging for information, and Percy stood up stiffly and decided to move past a medical history. If Oliver could remember Fred and George, he probably remembered who the Minister of Magic was. </p><p> </p><p>“C’mon, I want tae talk about something. Never been one for healers, sorry. It’s boring if we sit in silence,” Oliver said as Percy fell silent. </p><p> </p><p>Unwrapping the bandages, Percy found a black and blue mural painted across a leg that was nearly twice as large as it should be. Percy tapped his wand on the table, watching the bruising fade slightly as he ran his fingers across the wound. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll answer yer questions if ye answer mine,” Oliver offered, his voice cracking. Percy glanced up and saw that while the smile had stayed, Oliver’s eyes were brimming with tears. Good lord, he was relentless. “Ye must be my age.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy paused over the ankle, which was undeniably dislocated. The bones had bent in at an odd angle, suggesting at least one spiral break. Mediwizard Diggory had made the right call, this  could have been disastrous if fixed on a field. “Mr. Wood--”</p><p> </p><p>“Ollie,” he said again. He looked like he was about to faint, based on how tightly his muscles were strung. Percy stopped moving his hands, hovering them slightly above his leg. </p><p> </p><p>“Ollie,” Percy frowned, his temper beginning to rise. Didn’t Oliver want to play again this season? Didn’t he want to cooperate with the healer who was <em> trying </em> to get him back onto the pitch? “As a healer, I am concerned about your wellbeing and comfort. If you are experiencing symptoms that you are <em> choosing </em> to not disclose, then I cannot properly treat you.” </p><p> </p><p>He had the audacity to smirk in response. Percy tried not to glare at him, it wasn’t professional to be this frustrated with a patient only a few minutes into the meeting. And Percy was a <em> professional </em>.  </p><p> </p><p>“So yer a Gryffindor… like Quidditch… are the brother of Fred and George and Charlie Weasley--”</p><p> </p><p>“I will confirm that much. Is that satisfactory?” Percy huffed, looking back at the leg. “Will you please rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?” </p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oliver prop himself up and push back his messy hair. “I recommend you lay back down,” Percy said without looking at him. </p><p> </p><p>“The current minister is Kingsley Shacklebolt-- it’s a six,” Oliver chuckled. “What year are ye?”</p><p> </p><p>At least he was answering questions, which was a vast improvement. And if Oliver had <em> really </em>wanted this information, he could call up Fred and George who would give away anyone’s deepest secrets at the offer of good gossip, particularly Quidditch gossip. And Percy’s Hogwarts graduation wasn’t much of a secret. He decided there wasn’t much harm being done as long as he got the information needed for a medical prognosis. </p><p> </p><p>“1995,” Percy replied. “I will get you a stronger pain killer.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt bad -- the Quidditch player still squirmed slightly every time Percy touched his leg. A six for any Quidditch player was probably a ten for the average person. For Oliver Wood, a six might have been a twenty for anyone else. </p><p> </p><p>Oliver smiled at first, pleased that Percy was engaging in the conversation. Then, he appeared frustrated, muttering quietly. “I should know ye then-- I was 1994… Weasley… Weasley…” </p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Wood, please let me perform my duties--”</p><p> </p><p>His face lit up in recognition. “Aha, ye were a prefect, aye?”</p><p> </p><p>Percy almost corrected him to say he was <em> actually </em>Head Boy. But Oliver had graduated  when Percy was a sixth year. They’d interacted a handful of times in school and Percy would have been a prefect then. “Yes,” Percy confirmed. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Oliver was rather absentminded and stubborn, and Percy couldn’t tell if it was a matter of personality or head injury. Sliding to the other end of the table, Percy pulled out his wand and aimed it at Oliver’s face at a severe angle. “Follow the light. Turn your heads toward me.”</p><p> </p><p>After years of performing such tests, Percy hardly put any thought into producing a brilliant light at the end of his wand. Oliver, who had been listening for the spell, was caught off guard as he turned and winced. His eyes dilated rapidly and Percy told his quill to take that down. Oliver’s nose scrunched again. Percy glanced at the wounded leg, which hadn’t moved at all. </p><p> </p><p>“Ollie, I need you to focus,” Percy said, moving the wand back and forth. A bit slowly, Oliver apologized and followed the light easily. No concussion, then, just a terrible attention span. It was a common trait for Quidditch players -- excellent attention span for what they were interested in, absolute shite at paying attention if it wasn’t a Quaffle, bludger, or snitch. </p><p>Percy touched Oliver’s temples, shifting his head slightly to see if his neck had been injured. He wondered what product the Quidditch player used -- while his hair was messy, the sweat had been wicked away. It could have been a spell, he supposed. Oliver tilted his head back, brushing his dark hair against Percy’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Does this hurt?” </p><p> </p><p>Oliver shook his head and Percy performed a few more basic checks before declaring, “No head injury indicated likely signs of physical exertion and side effects from acute pain.” The quill scribbled furiously on the parchment -- Percy loved the sound of it, the report being made without him even lifting a finger. </p><p> </p><p>“So are ye their brother?”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver’s voice wasn’t such a bad sound, even if his questions were rather obtrusive. Percy nodded, wondering if Oliver actually remembered all six Weasley brothers. Charlie and the twins had been on the Quidditch team with Oliver. The twins were very good at staying in touch with old friends, so Oliver had probably gone to their parties at some point and met Ron. Bill… well, anyone who knew one of Bill’s younger brothers had at least <em> heard </em>of Bill. Percy was the least likely to be remembered -- he hadn’t seen Oliver since 1994, with the exception of being a spectator at Puddlemere matches.  </p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me, but I can’t remember yer name-- first name,” Oliver looked genuinely apologetic. Percy almost smiled. He’d been impressed that Oliver remembered he’d been a prefect <em> and </em>a Weasley, a first name was nothing. </p><p> </p><p>“Percival,” he answered formally. He hadn’t gone by Percival since -- he hadn’t ever gone by Percival, really. But <em> Percy </em>felt too familiar to tell a patient. Most were content with “Healer Weasley.” If Percy had his way, everyone would simply call him Healer Weasley except for his mum and dad. Avoiding Oliver’s eyes, he asked for a full medical history. </p><p> </p><p>“Two concussions, one from 1988 and the other in 1998. Broken bones, but all healed correctly. All Quidditch injuries, honest. If ye need a <em> comprehensive </em> list, it’ll take me an hour to remember.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy rested a hand on the thick file that Healer Matthews had delivered not too long before. “Your injuries here are recorded up until your last visit,” Percy explained. “Can you recall the past year’s injuries? Anything that required major medical attention that the team Mediwizard can’t fix easily.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy directed the quill to react to Oliver’s voice, as it would save him time with the report. He wondered if accents impacted the handwriting, he’d have to check later. Most of his patients lacked a charming accent like Oliver’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Rotator cuff tear, but it was small. Pulled hamstring, but some physical therapy fixed it right up-- nothing else worth noting. A couple knocked out teeth, all put back in their sockets--” he flashed a smile. It was probably a straighter smile than Oliver had when he began playing Quidditch. “I think it still looks okay,” he continued. “Doesn’t matter much tae me anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky for you,” Percy moved back to Oliver’s leg, pressing down on it. “Quidditch injuries are my area of expertise, magical transportation injuries actually. Does this hurt?” </p><p> </p><p>Oliver groaned, taking a deep, shaky breath before eeking out a yes. Percy kept his hands in place until Oliver opened his eyes again. </p><p> </p><p>“Mediwizard Diggory was wise to send you here. If the calcaneus--”</p><p> </p><p>“Speak in Quidditch player words, aye? Do ye have to regrow anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Based on the diagnostic tests, no.” Percy took a seat on the stool and looked at his wand, which gave the exact summary he’d expected. The breaks had all been clean, with the exception of one spiral fracture on the fibula. No infections -- he’d come to St. Mungo’s early enough -- but it wouldn’t be able to bear weight again for a few days. </p><p> </p><p>“Clean breaks for the most part on the foot bones and ankle bones. Your ankle is dislocated,” Percy explained. “There’s enough breaks that I have to set them individually. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I cannae just take the Floo or apparate?” </p><p> </p><p>“I highly discourage the use of magical transportation with freshly set bones. Also, you’ve shown quite a bit of physical exhaustion. I hardly trust you not to splinch yourself. I will be administering a pain killer--”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t bother, I don’t need the pain killer,” Oliver said gruffly. Percy’s recommendations were falling on deaf ears, but he wasn’t about to get Oliver sent to another Healer because of stupidity.  </p><p> </p><p>“Ollie--” He wondered if Oliver actually preferred the nickname. “Ollie, I understand you are a rather prominent, well-known player for your toughness and ability to rebound after injuries. However, I do not need to be impressed by your ability to handle pain--”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver’s lower lip was sticking out in a pout and he shook his head like a stubborn toddler refusing to eat his vegetables. Percy crossed his arms, waiting for an actual response. Quidditch players were always hesitant to take painkillers, especially this late in the season. But Oliver had said he was at a six for pain, and it would only get worse once the bones were snapped back into position. </p><p> </p><p>“If yer an expert in injuries, I’ll be alright. I need tae leave, and my family lives in Glasgow,” Oliver replied. After a bit more <em> convincing, </em>Oliver relented. “Harry Potter, our team seeker, he’ll get me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Harry Potter?” Percy was a bit surprised. He didn’t talk to Harry much, but… yes, he was on Puddlemere now, traded the previous season from the Arrows. Ginny had mentioned he was looking at retiring in the next few years, given how rough his injuries had been. Oliver probably didn’t have the same instincts of self-preservation. </p><p> </p><p>“Yer sister’s boyfriend, aye,” Oliver grunted. The Wizarding World was small indeed. “Don’t give me the painkillers.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy frowned. “I do not recommend that course of action. This is an incredibly painful procedure.”</p><p> </p><p>“It won’t hurt tomorrow, will it? I’ll live.” Oliver finished the necessary paperwork, laying back on the table and closing his eyes. His arms crossed over his fit chest, which moved up and down slowly. </p><p> </p><p>As much as he didn’t want to, Percy understood. Painkillers weren’t easy to take even if you weren’t a Quidditch celebrity who was preparing for the season finals. If you were somebody who relied on your mind -- somebody like Percy -- you wanted to keep control at all times. Biting his lip, Percy quietly said his name to get his attention. Oliver pouted, opening his eyes slightly. Percy entreated him to change his mind. </p><p> </p><p>“I know the bureaucratic nightmare the League puts players through if you get inventoried for potions usage. A trained healer can administer them,” Percy pointed at himself. “I have given players them before. By having a record and my approval, you won’t be penalized. It does not affect cognitive or physical capacity past twenty four hours--”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. He waited a few moments before responding, but as his leg jerked, Percy knew he’d made a decision. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy went to work, stabilizing the leg. He sent an order down to the pharmacy, ignoring the protests from the passing intern that it was the end of a shift. Percy’s shift had ended hours ago and as long as he was here, nobody could complain. Oliver was patient, resting his head back and talking aloud about his teammates, or asking if Harry had been called yet. Percy passed the contact information to another Healer -- he had copied down the information, because Oliver’s handwriting left much to be desired. By the time the operation was ready to begin, they’d received notice that Harry was in the waiting room. Percy wondered if Ginny had come along as well, but figured she wouldn’t expect any sort of family reunion after midnight. </p><p> </p><p>He rested the tip of his wand on Oliver’s ankle where the second smallest break was. It was best to increase the pain gradually, and end on a light note. “One, two, three--” Percy counted, snapping the first bone back in place. </p><p> </p><p>Oliver, even with the painkillers, flinched. Percy smiled slightly, imagining if Oliver’s stubbornness had persisted. They would have needed restraints. Percy continued moving his wand, correcting the four other breaks and knocking the ankle back in place. The swelling reduced slightly, but that would take a few hours to subside completely.  Once the ankle was wrapped tightly in new white bandages, Percy stepped back to look at his handiwork. Oliver would heal, right as rain. </p><p> </p><p>“One week rest. Ice and heat alteration. I will be giving you a <em> minor </em> pain killer draught,” he emphasized, “along with anti-inflammatory remedies.”</p><p> </p><p>“I dinnae want tae, but for ye, anything,” Oliver grinned. Percy shook his head slightly. To smile after that was impressive. “Diggory gets our medical reports.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy began organizing the paperwork for the Mediwizard, handing Oliver the completed file after instructing the quill to make another copy for St. Mungo’s records. “Well, you will be able to play after two weeks. I will recommend you phase into practice slowly. If something hits this ankle, or you overuse it, you’ll surely end up seeing me again-- you should stop by Monday, so I can check for swelling and any abnormalities. Sometimes there can be complications or breaks not detected by diagnostics.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wait.” Oliver immediately shook his head, raising his voice slightly. “Nae, that won’t do.”</p><p> </p><p>Percy tilted his head to consider the man who was now scrambling to sit up straight and glaring angrily at him. As a healer used to dealing with Quidditch players, he’d expected some resistance, but Oliver would be an idiot to expect to play again within a week. They’d brought him to St. Mungo’s for the first time in a year, Diggory must have told him to expect worse. He was lucky to be getting two weeks, Percy’s original expectation would have been pulling Oliver from the team until the next season.</p><p> </p><p>“You cannot practice or play on that leg for some time.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“It’s a fecking <em> broom </em>. I put no pressure on my leg--”</p><p> </p><p>“You, based on Mediwizard Diggory’s report, kicked a quaffle and if I remember correctly, got a bludger to the ankle. Do you want permanent damage to a healing injury? I do not clear you to play for two weeks.” </p><p> </p><p>Oliver swung his leg over the side of the table and Percy stepped forward immediately, waving his hand for Oliver to keep his legs still. Oliver kept his eyes trained on Percy’s. “I have a semi-final match against the Bats. Ye need to clear me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would be going against my oath as a healer if I allowed you to get on a broom. Puddlemere has a reserve keeper, yes?” Percy knew there was <em> definitely </em>a reserve Keeper, all the teams had benches that ran deep enough so the team could keep going if there was an apocalypse. That’s why tickets were so bloody expensive. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Oliver shrugged harshly. At least he had some sense to him. He was only thirty, he had a few seasons left in him. The ankle injury could have been career ending, but Oliver still had the health of a twenty-five year old, maybe younger. “Yer ruining my career. I am supposed to take Captain when Simmons retires. Don’t see how my team could support that decision if I can’t play in the <em> match to rival all matches </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then I’ve ruined your career, but made sure that you can walk for the rest of your life,” Percy answered. “What time would you like our appointment on Monday, Mr. Wood?”</p><p> </p><p>Wood didn’t answer, looking at the ground furiously. But at least he wasn’t protesting anymore. Percy asked again. “Do you prefer morning or afternoon? I have a department meeting after two, but besides that I have a relatively open schedule.”</p><p> </p><p>“How early do ye get in?” Oliver grumbled. He looked exhausted, his energy drained by the injury and the healing process. He’d certainly have splinched himself if he’d tried to get home on his own.</p><p> </p><p>Percy pictured his Monday schedule. “Eight for patient check-ups--”</p><p> </p><p>“Eight it is, early riser,” Oliver grinned weakly. “It’s a date,” he winked. </p><p> </p><p>Percy chuckled, scribbling down the time on Oliver’s medical records. Oliver nodded, about to hop to his feet. Percy saw the motion coming, lunging forward to catch him before his foot could hit the ground. That was another reason to avoid painkillers -- the injury no longer felt as severe and common sense could filter out the window. </p><p> </p><p>“Oliver, do not get up unassisted. That was incredibly dangerous,” Percy scolded, still holding him. He was shorter than Percy, but much bulkier and it took effort to get him back to the table. Oliver rested his head tiredly on Percy’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>He laughed. “Sorry! I forget I’m injured sometimes. Right, no weight bearing. Yes, Healer Weasley.” </p><p> </p><p>“I will return with your potions and crutches,” Percy clicked his tongue. “Do not move. I do not like my work to be undone.” </p><p> </p><p>The halls were practically empty as Percy helped Oliver with basic crutch technique. Oliver quickly picked it up, pointing out that he’d been injured enough times to learn how to use them. As they approached the waiting area, Oliver lifted his good foot off the ground and swung it through with a playful laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Do not ruin my work, Mr. Wood,” Percy shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver ignored him, spotting Harry in the waiting area. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop staring at yerself, Potter,” Oliver yawned. “Bring me home.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry threw down the magazine and stood, chuckling at his teammate who had begun giggling loudly. The painkillers were taking their full effect and Percy handed off a few bottles and Oliver’s uniform to Harry. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Harry said to Percy, smiling slightly. Ginny wasn’t with him, Percy wasn’t sure they’d ever interacted if Ginny or Ron weren’t around. Percy nodded to acknowledge him. Harry looked at Oliver. </p><p> </p><p>“My place or yours? You look like shit, mate.”</p><p> </p><p>Oliver’s head lolled around and Percy held up his hands in case he fell backwards. Instead, Oliver looked at him tiredly. “His place,” Oliver batted his eyes at Percy and licked his lips. </p><p> </p><p>Percy pointedly looked at Harry, refusing to reply. Painkillers had a habit of making people say rather embarrassing things, especially to Percy. It felt a bit nice to be flirted with, even if it was by someone under heavy medication who certainly didn’t mean anything by it. </p><p> </p><p>Harry laughed, “Alright, flirt. Good to know you’ve been giving my girlfriend’s brother trouble all night, eh?” </p><p> </p><p>Percy cleared his throat. “It would be the painkillers I gave him. They can induce hysterics.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry frowned at the mention of painkillers, but didn’t seem surprised. The injury had probably looked even worse when Oliver was tumbling off the broom than when Percy saw it neatly propped up on a hospital examination table. As Oliver kept giggling, Percy and Harry decided against the crutches and helped Oliver along. Oliver leaned into Percy’s side, humming softly.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll take care of him until his mum or girlfriend or whatever can take him?” Percy muttered, glad that Oliver was too busy  flirting to notice another conversation going on. </p><p> </p><p>“No girlfriend if you’re interested, mate,” Harry teased, dragging Oliver into the fireplace. </p><p> </p><p>“Pleasure tae meet yer acquaintance, Percival,” Oliver said loudly. He attempted to wink, but both eyes closed. He tried again, but yawned instead. </p><p> </p><p>“You will be mindful to use my formal title upon our next encounter,” Percy reminded him. “If you experience significant pain, or start to feel confused, drowsy, please--”</p><p> </p><p>“I know the drill, Healer Weasley. Tell yer brothers, Wood says hello.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you went by Ollie,” Percy frowned. </p><p> </p><p>“Quidditch players call me Wood, and ye call me Ollie, aye?” Oliver took the powder from the presented container, Harry’s hand taking more -- better to let Oliver think he was able to travel, he’d put up less of a fight. “I forgot to tell ye, yer one of the most bonnie lads I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” </p><p> </p><p>Once Harry and Oliver were gone, Percy checked his watch again. He was already several hours into his day off. He could request a shortened shift one day next week… no, he was already tempted to stay and complete that stupid report. He cleaned up his office, put Oliver’s Monday appointment into his calendar, and took the same Floo back to his flat. It wasn’t much longer before Percy was in his pyjamas, head resting on his pillow, when he wondered if Oliver had fallen asleep yet. It was much too late to increase any dosage now… he’d wait until Monday, that was good. Hopefully, the flirtatious effects of his treatment would wear off by then.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed it! Please comment below. </p><p>There are some changes to canon. The Wizarding Wars never took place, so Percy became a Healer rather than a Ministry official. His birthday is later, so he ended up a year behind Oliver. There are a lot of other universe changes that we aren't going to examine, but I assume Wolfstar is canon?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Family Matters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As he sipped his coffee, Percy leafed through the multi-page summary of the match between Puddlemere United and the Wimbourne Wasps. Scanning the page, his eyes caught on a black-and-white picture of the Puddlemere captain being carried off of the field. Despite the horrific pain he must have experienced, Oliver had his head thrown back not in a scream, but in a laugh. In fact, he appeared to be giggling, wrestling against the grasp of the Mediwizard and coach. Percy smiled slightly. He was quite an odd fellow, wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great picture of your boyfriend, yeah?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy folded the paper over, quirking an eyebrow at his brunch partner. Ginny, her brown eyes hidden behind large sunglasses and her coppery red hair pulled back in a braid, sat down across from him. She grinned as she waited for a response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re referring to,” Percy replied, tucking the newspaper into his bag. “Offer Harry my congratulations, quite a catch in his last game.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I hear Oliver Wood’s quite a catch, too--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny, I don’t know what you’re going on about,” Percy pursed his lips, lifting a hand to wave the waiter over. Harry must have told her about Oliver’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>comment.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You’re late, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your watch is fast,” Ginny said, knowing full well that was a lie. They ordered their meals -- a ham and cheese toastie for Ginny, a light salad for Percy -- and Ginny immediately dove back into the conversation once the waiter was out of earshot.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s single,” Ginny winked. “And Harry said you got on great--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny,” Percy interrupted politely. He could tolerate her teasing for a few seconds at most, and he felt bad for whatever Oliver had been subjected to that weekend. He probably would have flirted with a rubbish bin if it had been in front of him. “Is Harry staying up north until the final next month?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Ginny huffed. The Holyhead Harpies had been eliminated from the pennant, probably a blessing for her relationship. Though she and Harry seemed even more in love after they played one another in a match, regardless of how many jokes were made about their imminent breakup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked back at him, not distracted by his question at all. “I know you can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>confirm </span>
  </em>
  <span>that you’re treating Oliver, but is it true that he said he wanted to shag you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy narrowed his eyes. “Ginny--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” Ginny whined. “I’m only having a bit of fun. Besides, Wood was talking about you </span>
  <em>
    <span>all day </span>
  </em>
  <span>yesterday. Absolutely head over heels for the mysterious and handsome </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percival Weasley</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Did you really introduce yourself at Percival?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy stuck his chin up. “There’s nothing wrong with Percival. That’s my name, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny shrugged, sipping from her water in lieu of an answer. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Oliver’s comment a bit, but pain medication could lower a person’s inhibitions and substantially loosen their tongue. That’s why a medical contact was required to bring them home. It was merely Oliver’s bad luck that he was supervised by Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, two devils in disguise.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to know what he said?” Ginny said quietly like it was a Ministry secret and there were spies at the next table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s none of my business,” Percy replied. “But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me regardless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So,” Ginny leaned back in her seat triumphantly. “Wood’s staring at me and starts going off about how pretty my hair is -- said it was like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percival’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We do have the same hair,” Percy answered. “There’s nothing funny about that. People notice it all the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but they don’t follow it with a doe-eyed complaint that we’ve been hiding you. Wood was so sad he’d never met you before, because you never come to anything--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I come for the important things,” Percy crossed his arms. “You make it sound like I’ve left the country -- don’t mix us up, that’s Charlie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but you’re also addicted to your work -- thank you,” she laughed, thanking the waiter as their food arrived. “Perce, how many hours did you work this week? Sixty? Seventy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy declined to answer, knowing she’d use the answer to mock him further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think Wood fancies you, even without the potions,” Ginny insisted. “Take a shot -- once he’s not your patient or whatever--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, I cannot comment on who any of my patients are,” Percy grew impatient. “And as a medical professional, I can tell you that pain relieving potions can leave people in a fit of hysterics. The things they say should not be taken seriously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s like alcohol, you only say what you’re really thinking,” Ginny smirked. “Like Veritaserum, but you don’t even have to ask questions.” She mimicked Oliver’s accent, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s got the build for a Chaser</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I dinnae ken if I’ve ever seen someone so handsome--</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glared at Ginny. “I’m going to leave if you keep--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” Ginny whined. “I’m only teasing you. I think you’d be cute together, honestly. He fancies blokes, and you’re a bloke--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear that I fit the meager requirement of </span>
  <em>
    <span>being a bloke</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy continued eating his salad. “And I didn’t come here to get harangued about my love life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Impressive vocabulary,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m only saying that neither of you are seeing anyone, and Oliver’s clearly interested. You are single, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about this,” Percy looked down at his plate, clenching his fork in a fist. “Ginny, aren’t you going to the Azores with Harry this summer? Are you excited for your holiday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny gave him a disappointed frown, but took the hint well enough. They discussed the trip and how she wanted Harry to propose. Not wanting to tread into the realm of love and relationships, Percy quickly changed the topic to their father’s new cat, Winston. Halfway through a retelling of George’s most recent (and most disastrous) fireworks display, Percy looked at the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should get back to work. Not that it hasn’t been lovely to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Ginny waved for the check and started rifling through her purse. Percy tutted, grabbing the bill before she could bat an eye. It would be a cold day in hell before he let his younger sister pay for anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Percy, about Oliver--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Ginny,” Percy kept walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Oliver Wood stayed at the back of his mind in preparation for their check-up appointment, Percy was much too busy with work to deeply consider Ginny’s comments. There were reports to edit, meetings to hold, surgeries to supervise, and administrators to appease. One such administrator, the financial director of the hospital, was particularly pressing on his schedule regarding the July fundraising gala. Percy was far from being a procrastinator but… April had just started. Weren’t they getting a bit ahead of themselves?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was there a problem with my report, Healer McKinnon?” Percy frowned. He’d triple checked that report and the thought of editing it again made his stomach churn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older woman shook her head, offering a kind smile as she complimented its thoroughness. “Yer presence is requested at the Board Meeting tomorrow morning, the Gala is on the agenda. Since yer a Department Head, ye really should be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” Percy thought for a moment. “No, I have a patient meeting at that time. But… I suppose if I’m needed, I could assign it to a junior healer--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent,” McKinnon smiled. “I’ll see ye tomorrow, bright and early.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Could another healer handle the appointment? Absolutely. But did Percy regret handing the case over? Absolutely. If only because it meant he had to attend this dreadful Board meeting. At least Oliver was a good conversationalist. Augusta Longbottom, meanwhile, rambled on for at least fifteen minutes about choosing a proper color scheme for the Quidditch Gala that didn’t feature any team’s colors prominently. When Percy was asked about his opinion, he said the previous years’ pattern would do fine. He knew that he should care -- 36 percent of his budget came from the Quidditch League and various team sponsorships. An incredibly high statistic, certainly, given that past decades had seen practically all funding coming from the Ministry. But the broom closets in his wing were named after various League officials for a reason. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as McKinnon began her piece, Percy snuck out the back door and rushed to get back to his office, stopping only for a cup of coffee. He wondered if a third cup before 9 a.m. was excessive, but didn’t come up with an answer before he heard someone shouting his name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy -- Healer Weasley! Did ye have a pleasant weekend?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver Wood was hobbling down the hall towards him, with a beautiful smile -- no, no, just a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you, Mr. Wood,” Percy remembered he was at work and searched for a medically-related question to ask. “Are you adjusting to your crutches well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re great actually. Put a cushioning charm underneath,” Oliver smiled. Oliver hobbled a bit closer and Percy caught a whiff of his shampoo -- it was probably expensive. Did Quidditch players wear expensive shampoo? Oliver’s hair was looking better, too, probably because it wasn’t a practice day. “Yer not as tall when I’m out of the seat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re healing well -- I must be off --” Percy began walking, shuffling the files in his hands. The conversation had gone on long enough for a polite greeting, any more and they bordered on friendly greeting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh wait!” Oliver hobbled over to block his path. “Why weren’t you my healer this morning? I missed having yer company.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy hesitated before explaining he had a meeting. Perhaps Oliver hadn’t liked Healer Matthews, she was relatively new. “Were you satisfied with Healer Matthews’ performance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy dragged his eyes down to look at Oliver’s leg, which appeared well, but fought the blush in his cheeks as he noticed Oliver’s outfit. His dark slacks clung tights to the toned legs underneath -- good lord, he could see every muscle. Percy tried to rationalize it in his mind. Of course he had nice legs, he was an athlete. Not nice, fit. No, fit wasn’t the right word either --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shook his head. “Nae, Healer Matthews was very kind. I didn’t mind her at all. I wanted to catch ye before I left.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was rather nice of him, but Percy only smiled in response. Before he was inclined to ask Oliver a personal question, like his plans for the day or how the weather was, Percy decided that was enough of an interaction for today. Looking for a way around his patient, Percy took a step and-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Err… Percy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are ye going to… Fred and George’s what d’ya callit -- their Summer Palooza?” Oliver asked. “Wondering when I can learn more about the mythical seventh Weasley.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had been invited to the event. Fred and George knew that an “open invitation” would never get their elder brother in the door, so they sent ostentatious party invitations every few weeks to Percy’s flat. He’d willingly attend most family events, but the twins… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, likely not,” Percy answered. “Those events do get out of hand -- when they send two guests into our A&amp;E, it’s best to have deniability.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although his joke wasn’t particularly good, Oliver laughed loudly. His head tossed back like it had in the picture in the Prophet. Percy hoped he hadn’t caused him any pain, Oliver was the last person he’d want to hurt -- what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain up to today? Maybe it was the third cup of coffee. Percy needed a fourth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Wood--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, would ye want to -- go for a round of drinks with me? Sometime?” Oliver interrupted. “We can go to the Leaky Cauldron, or somewhere else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Percy could even consider the very enticing opportunity to spend time with a handsome Quidditch player, he recited the importance of maintaining a formal relationship while chastising himself internally for even implying that he’d be interested. Clearly he was sending some sort of signal if Oliver thought -- he didn’t know what Oliver thought. He was probably a nice bloke looking to meet his friend’s brother, nothing more. Percy simply had an overactive imagination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, permanently avoiding Oliver outside of St. Mungo’s was near impossible. With the size of the Wizarding World, their close proximity in age, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fact that nearly all of his siblings had some connection to the Quidditch player, Percy was sure he would see Oliver Wood at some point. That didn’t mean it was appropriate to seek him out or to be sought out himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer not even my Healer, ye said so yerself,” Oliver replied with a slight pout. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s voice had lowered and Percy </span>
  <em>
    <span>did not </span>
  </em>
  <span>like the way it sent a shiver down his spine. He needed to cut off this conversation as soon as possible. He was a professional, he knew it was merely a reaction of chemicals in his brain and he was unlucky enough to have a patient who was a practical Adonis.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’m rather busy, Ollie,” Percy frowned. Oliver scrunched his nose slightly in annoyance, but Percy ignored it. “And I’d request that you cease this… line of questioning. I’m sorry, but my answer remains no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shrugged. Percy rushed a few comments about the hospital’s help desk if only to end on a professional note. He couldn’t indulge, regardless of how attractive Oliver was. It would be against the code of ethics set by the founders of St. Mungo’s and more importantly, against Percy’s personal standards for his conduct and activities. But right now, his moral compass was spinning wildly. Four cups of coffee wouldn’t be enough, he needed five. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have accidentally drank some potion, because Oliver Wood kept coming up in his mind at the most inconvenient times. While editing journals, reviewing new cases, attending planning events… Percy wondered how his patient was doing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>whether Oliver had asked Ginny more questions -- there wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there? It was simple curiosity, who wouldn’t want to know when people talked about them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although it was a nice distraction to have work, it was a relief to have a Saturday off, especially when Percy had the whole day reserved to himself. Never one to sleep late, Percy had completed his morning run, enjoyed a coffee and toast, and settled onto his sofa with a copy of the Daily Prophet before 8 a.m. There wasn’t much news. Auror Black’s press conference on a hunger strike in Azkaban… Ollivander hired a promising young wandmaker from America… and a pack of centaurs had been spotted near a Muggle community. The arts and opinion sections were shorter than usual and Percy skimmed until he reached sports. The sports -- no, Percy didn’t need to read that one today, even if the headline mentioned Puddlemere United. It wasn’t important to him if a certain Keeper was mentioned. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t feel the need to review that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Percy had </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty </span>
  </em>
  <span>of things he wanted to get done in his free time, it was no surprise that his siblings had little respect for his schedule. As he polished his kitchen counters, a massive barn owl came soaring through his living room window, a letter in its mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To H.B.: Drinks tonight, your attendance is mandatory. George. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy groaned. His brothers had been harassing him for a while about coming out for drinks, but their respective busy schedules had been a saving grace thus far. He considered writing a response that he was preoccupied when a tawny owl soared through. The owl was wearing a knitted jumper -- utterly ridiculous. It squawked at him until Percy untied the scroll on its leg. The other owl had begun pacing on the counter, shedding feathers everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perce, someone will die if you’re not at the pub. Not me, somebody else. And I’ll frame you for it. Fred. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew this game, the twins would keep sending owls until he agreed. They’d once sent thirty-four owls into his flat and it had smelled of owl droppings for weeks. He wrote a brief reply inquiring about the time and place as though it ever changed. At a quarter to eight, Percy entered the Leaky Cauldron, spotting his twin brothers in a booth. They were already shooting the paper off of straws at one another. Percy found it hard to believe that they were only two years younger than him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose the others will be late.” Percy took a seat next to George, dodging Fred’s final missile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seems unlikely, as we didn’t invite them,” Fred replied, lowering the straw before Percy could vanish it. His bright red hair was ruffled as though he’d rolled out of bed five minutes ago, but Percy knew he’d styled it to look that way. The twins invested quite a bit in their scruffiness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy raised his eyebrows as he glanced between the twins. “Ginny won’t be pleased.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was Ginny’s request that we arranged this… external mediation,” Fred grinned. “First rounds on me, what do you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s eyes narrowed and his body took on a fight-or-flight response. Was it natural for one to feel this way around their brothers so often? The twins were anything but natural. With a brother one either side, it was unlikely he could fight… and the way they had crammed themselves into the small booth, a flight seemed unlikely as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We know you don’t like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>word</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” George hummed. “But we think you needed a talk, mate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A round of beers arrived on the table in tall, foamy mugs. Fred and George each took one, but Percy kept his arms crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it’s an… eager conversation on a pressing topic,” Fred nudged him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conciliation? Arbitration?” George pushed closer on the seat to Percy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say the damn word, or I’ll beat you with the thesaurus you’ve obviously bought since the last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s an intervention, mate,” Fred grinned. “Ginny </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bill approved.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wished that one twin had absorbed the other in the womb, or better yet, his mother had decided to cut it off after three children. It would have saved him so many headaches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t ask Ron, then? Charlie?” Percy said, the annoyance clear in his tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Both out of the country at the moment,” George took a long and slow sip, leaving a foam mustache on his lip. “And it’s an emergency.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy looked at his watch. He hadn’t even been here for fifteen minutes and they were already getting on all of his nerves. “Dare I ask what emergency you’ve cooked up this time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could guess what Ginny had talked to them about, but hoped it might be another “intervention” on behalf of his poor sense of fashion or his “unnatural” vegetarianism. Those conversations could easily be ignored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When’s the last time you shagged somebody?” Fred asked as though he were asking Percy the time of day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy sputtered a response, “That… that is a very personal question and frankly is </span>
  <em>
    <span>none </span>
  </em>
  <span>of your business and I can’t believe--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny said--” Fred began. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did Ginny say?” Percy glared at him. “She had no right to talk about--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She only said you were being an arse on the topic of romantic relationships and that she thinks you’re bitter and lonely,” George answered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is ludicrous,” Percy shoved Fred as he attempted to massage Percy’s shoulders. “My personal affairs are none of your business.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George raised a single eyebrow, crossing his arms. The twins had taught themselves the skill of raising a single eyebrow around the age of four and Percy didn’t think they’d gone a day without using it ever since. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce, we’re worried -- you’ve been working </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Bill said you cried when you went to see that romance film with him and Fleur--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was depressing, someone died,” Percy said defensively. “And I have a very important job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and you love your job--” Fred took the third beer, slipping it into Percy’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we’re very proud of you,” George nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But if you don’t learn to relax--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to explode,” George said confidently. “And not in a good way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s medically impossible,” Percy took a sip from his drink, slumping in the booth. He didn’t want to inquire as to what “good” explosion George was talking about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred looked at him sympathetically. “Mate, we want you to be happy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am happy!” Percy insisted. “I have a great job, a great apartment -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible </span>
  </em>
  <span>family, I’ll grant that,” he narrowed his eyes as he stared at Fred. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you want to talk about family?” George frowned. “Aren’t you the one who planned to be married with kids by the age of thirty-five? You want to settle down Perce, but you haven’t gone on a proper date in </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We keep trying to set you up but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes, that argument. The one every sibling had tactfully broached in recent months, the one they felt it was their duty to bring up. The twins were relentless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes things don’t go according to plan,” Percy said softly, sipping from his glass. “I’m not even thirty, George, I could have kids </span>
  <em>
    <span>whenever</span>
  </em>
  <span> I want with </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoever </span>
  </em>
  <span>I want. Uncle Fabian didn’t have any until he was forty--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But somebody like Uncle Fabian didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he didn’t have kids,” George pointed out. “You want to settle down, but if you never go on dates or at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>shag </span>
  </em>
  <span>somebody, all that equipment down there? It’s going to break.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, medically impossible,” Percy argued. “I go on dates, thank you very much. I went on one a few weeks ago with that bloke George knew, what’s-his-name--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, and it went well based on the fact you don’t remember his name,” George rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that wasn’t a few weeks, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>two months</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago, Perce. And you left after appetizers, you didn’t even give him a chance,” Fred pushed Percy’s beer back into his hands. “Ginny said she wanted to set you up with some bloke, but you </span>
  <em>
    <span>very rudely </span>
  </em>
  <span>turned her down. You’re not even putting in effort.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some bloke, not a name, Percy noticed. Apparently, Ginny had done him the small mercy of leaving Oliver Wood out of it. He didn’t dignify Fred’s insult with a reply, but George decided the conversation wasn’t over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been over a year, Perce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been sixteen months, that’s not that long” Percy muttered. “Give or take a few weeks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the fact you’re still counting is concerning,” George nudged him. “Because I guarantee you that she isn’t. You said you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It truly was an injustice that Fred and George, the two siblings who cared the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>about being on track and planning ahead, were so put-together. In their dream careers before 20, rich by 22, in happy and healthy relationships by 27. Fred had Lee, George had Angelina, and Percy didn’t have anybody. Nobody wanted to mention that Percy also had a stable career which he excelled in. It was always questions about why Percy was single, why he hadn’t settled down, where those grandkids were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I don’t,” Percy replied. “I’m focused on my career right now, and that’s what makes me happy. No need for your bloody interventions because you think I haven’t had a decent shag since I was dumped.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you had a decent shag since--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy lied. He’d gone on dates, but it had never… never made it to that point. He could also count the number of dates he’d been on in the past sixteen months on one hand, none of them second dates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Fred looked a bit surprised and Percy tried not to be offended. “We thought--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to tell my </span>
  <em>
    <span>younger </span>
  </em>
  <span>brothers every detail of my personal affairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not much younger than you, Perce,” Fred retrieved a second round of drinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not thirsty--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we’ll order food,” George insisted. “Our treat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need or want your pity,” Percy said. “Look, I’ll date when I have the time--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll never have the time if you don’t make it,” Fred crossed his arms. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, Perce. You’d be less tense if you had somebody to--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know me well enough to know that I don’t need a bloody intervention any time that Ginny or Bill or someone thinks I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>tense</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe I’m so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tense</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you won’t lay off of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, Percy swearing,” George observed. “Definitely means he’s calm and not at all troubled by something, eh Freddie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll change the topic--” Fred said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>On one condition,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fred added, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy waited, eager to move on with the damn conversation. The twins could be a bit more pleasant when they weren’t so self-righteous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get your head out of your arse and realize that people would be lucky to have you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Men </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>women,” George added. “And we know plenty, so if you want to be set up--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep it in mind,” Percy said cautiously. “Can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk about something else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tried to flush the twins’ conversation out of his mind as he got ready for work the next morning. But when a sliver of gray -- only a few hairs, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck out </span>
  </em>
  <span>-- appeared in his mirror, he felt the Grim Reaper standing behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saturday started off wonderfully. He made an early morning visit to his parents, enjoying breakfast with them before they went off to the semifinal match. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure you’re alright giving us the tickets?” His mother frowned. “Your sister said they were for you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Work,” Percy shrugged. “And you get to see your grandkids--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shame there’s only three,” Molly looked at him expectantly. Percy forced a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at the time! You’d best get going, the match sold out,” Percy shuffled them out the door and apparated to St. Mungo’s. He disapprovingly noted that several of his own Healers -- including those who disdained broomstick injuries in favour of curse-breaking -- had called in “sick” a few hours before the semifinal was set to start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many hours later, Percy was hiding with a mystery novel and a second cup of coffee in the corner of the break room. He’d had an amazingly productive shift thus far, completing a new draft of the report and providing reviews of three different journal articles. Percy had also checked in on the interns to see their development and felt confident in relaxing for a few minutes as he flipped another page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley?” Healer Matthews appeared at the door. Frowning, Percy glanced up. “Sorry to bother you, but Oliver Wood was admitted for treatment. His Mediwizard wanted to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver Wood?” Percy closed the book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, the ankle looked a mess when I saw it,” she grimaced. “They won their match, though. Good for Puddlemere, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy ignored her comment, taking the file and quickly walking to Oliver’s hospital room. None of it made any sense. It was hard to be injured when you weren’t even on a broom -- it must have been a stray bludger, or a celebration gone wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Percy arrived, Mediwizard Diggory was pacing the room and Oliver laid comatose on a hospital bed nearby. The first thing Percy noticed was that Oliver Wood was in a Puddlemere United uniform. That couldn’t be right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley,” Diggory nodded. “We’ve got a problem.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The plotline this week diverged from Oliver's POV, so make sure to give both a read! Also, we love to see sibling dynamics with our favorite middle Weasley children -- no Voldemort means that Fred's still around and you can't tell me that the twins and Percy wouldn't have grown closer with age. </p><p>Drop a comment with your thoughts!  See you next Friday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Oliver Wood, an absolute menace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Mediwizard Diggory, how may I be of service?” Percy shut the door behind him. Producing his beech wand, Percy crossed the room to observe his unconscious patient. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was on the bed, his Puddlemere uniform splattered with mud and sweat. He was unusually pale. Oliver was supposed to have the tanned skin of an athlete not… not the clammy appearance of a corpse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His ankle is broken again,” Diggory groaned. “I knew we should have kept him off, but our reserve had the pox, and we predicted that it would be a quick match.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Unpredictable sport, Quidditch,” Percy grumbled. It was past nightfall and Percy’s parents had gone to the match hours ago -- ten? Eleven? This injury wasn’t fresh anymore.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anybody who wasn’t a trained medical professional would have vomited at the sight. Oliver’s foot was twisted in the wrong direction, the knee jammed at an odd angle. His veins bulged and Percy could practically hear Oliver’s heartbeat as he looked down at the swollen limb. The bruises had returned, painting the leg in blacks, blues, purples, reds, and yellows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrific</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy mumbled. “Did you put him under--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Diggory shook his head. “He passed out when we tried to remove his boot. I did the scan and it… necessitated further treatment. Beyond what I could do in the locker room.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The leg was heavy and double the size it should have been. After two suspension charms, it was still unsteady in the air. Oliver’s head carelessly fell to the side, a silent groan coming from his mouth, the curly brown hair plastered against his lifeless skin. Unconsciously, Percy reached up his hand and brushed Oliver’s hair back as though the patient needed to see out of his closed eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the diagnostic spell was complete, Percy’s wand emitted a dark red light. The healer held it in the air, murmuring under his breath as he read the results. Completed, he turned to the quill that was patiently waiting on the nearby table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Severe swelling… a compound fracture to the tibia, a dislocation of the ankle joint, moderate to severe irritation of the posterior tibial tendon. And a partially torn ACL.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what mine said. Shit,” Diggory stepped away, kicking at the floor. “Can you fix it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll admit him,” Percy retrieved Oliver’s file, flipping through it rapidly. He didn’t want to make any promises, the anterior cruciate ligament didn’t heal easily. It wasn’t a bone that could be snapped back into place or a cut that could be sealed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can vanish the bones, regrow them once the swelling subsides. Then… we’ll work with what we have,” Percy frowned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diggory was quiet. He didn’t say much more before leaving, only adding that the team would withhold comment until a clearer prognosis was available. It was an understandable concern. Percy knew that if Oliver’s leg </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>heal properly, Puddlmere would start a search for a new Keeper only a month before the final match. But asking the question too soon didn’t help anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evanesco</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy murmured. The pants -- already torn by whatever measures Diggory had already taken -- and the remaining padding disappeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a locking charm to prevent too much rubberiness, Percy cast his least favorite healing spell: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ossio Dispersimus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bones below Oliver’s knee popped out of existence. They’d return eventually and hopefully, all of the ligaments would reconnect. Percy sighed, looking at the unconscious Quidditch player. Oliver’s chest rose and fell at a steady and slow pace. It was haunting how quiet he was, not a snore or a peep coming out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, the crack of dawn came, the sunlight streaming into the hospital window. Percy looked up, waving his wand to summon the bottle of Skele-Gro. Oliver would be up soon, and it was best to let it air out for a quarter of an hour to increase effectiveness. Soaring through the air, the heavy bottle of Skele-Gro landed on Percy’s lap, its skull emblem staring up at him. Percy felt uncomfortable just holding it -- it was a rarely prescribed potion despite its effectiveness. In fact, the last time he’d prescribed Skele-Gro was six months earlier, when a 17-year-old Hogwarts student managed to apparate on their ministry examination but forget to bring half their ribcage with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he cracked it open, Percy was reminded of one of the many reasons it was a rarely prescribed potion. A steam emitted from the bottle, the scent a mixture of burnt rubber and sewage gas. Scrunching his nose, Percy angled the Skele-Gro towards the window as it began to froth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine what Linfred of Stinchcombe was thinking when he decided to </span>
  <em>
    <span>drink </span>
  </em>
  <span>this,” Percy grumbled, slowly pouring it into a goblet. The dark liquid swirled around and emitted another puff of gas, now smelling something like Fred and George’s dirty socks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the bed, Oliver let out of a soft groan, shifting his head and murmuring softly. His good leg was kicking at the blanket while the other was trapped in the suspension charms in the air. The swelling was almost completely gone to the point that Percy could see the kneecap slightly dipping into the gap where there should have been bones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Wood?” Percy rested the goblet on the table and approached the patient, who was beginning to wriggle his way back into consciousness. “Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was smiling as his eyes opened and blinked up at the healer. Oliver must have been having a good dream that hadn’t quite faded, the bleary eyes slowly taking in the scene around him. There was a hint of confusion, and Percy expected a panic, but Oliver remained docile and content. His mouth began to move in small circles, but Oliver’s voice was too soft and raspy to be understood. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Wood,” Percy frowned. Oliver was probably uncomfortable, waking up without the faintest idea of what was going on. Fluffing the pillows under Oliver’s head so the patient could sit up slightly, Percy continued, “Do you know where you are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver grabbed the sleeve of Percy’s robes, glancing between the green healer’s outfit and the blue hospital gown. His grip was surprisingly tight, but Percy managed to wrench the fingers loose as gently as he possibly could. When he moved to place the hands on Oliver’s lap, Percy froze when he noticed a… a bulge. A bulge that was best left out of medical reports. Oliver was having a very good dream indeed. Slightly embarrassed with a blush on his cheeks, Percy opted to place Oliver’s hands on his stomach instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you need water?” Percy cleared his throat and tried again. Oliver responded with something that looked like a nod, so Percy filled a cup with his wand and guided it to Oliver’s mouth. Only opening his mouth slightly, Oliver accepted a few sips of water before finally speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re frowning?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver rolled his head to the side again, a slight pout on his face. The brown eyes blinked. They blinked a second time. “Percy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Healer Weasley,” Percy confirmed. That was good, he didn’t have total amnesia. “Do you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m at St. Mungo’s,” Oliver giggled, tilting his chin up and grinning madly. Ah, the pain relievers were still in effect. They had a while to go, Percy calculated. That wasn’t going to make the Skele-Gro conversation any easier, something signalled by Oliver’s immediate attempt to get out of his bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The leg refused to leave the suspension charms, but a huffing Oliver kept tugging, whining quietly. “Percy, my leg’s stuck--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trying to stifle a laugh, Percy shook his head, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder to get him to rest. “Mr. Wood--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s my da… Ollie,” Oliver mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re at St. Mungo’s?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver replied with a toothy grin. Percy, who hadn’t managed to move his arm away quickly enough, saw his sleeve seized in Oliver’s hands again. Oliver showed no plans to reply to the question, however, which could signal a serious concussion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, could you follow this light?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The charming brown eyes lagged behind -- no, no the </span>
  <em>
    <span>brown </span>
  </em>
  <span>eyes, no need for an additional adjective. Oliver was squinting, clearly unable to follow the signals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer… yer not as fun ‘ere… dream please,” Oliver mumbled. “So slow…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’re quite tired,” Percy flicked the wand again, continuing the tests. The reactions were delayed, and Percy frowned. “Do you feel confused?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer the one who makes me feel confused,” Oliver grinned, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy Weasley</span>
  </em>
  <span>. ‘ello.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a medical professional, he knew the brain was an enigma, something that couldn’t be controlled entirely. But god, did Percy wish he could stop his own brain from wondering how else he could get Oliver Wood to talk like that. Professional, Percy reminded himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professional</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Ollie,” Percy replied with a sigh, repositioning the pillows. The man, who featured quite a messy head of hair after hours of sleeping, leaned into him. He was cuddling Percy’s arm, his eyes closed and a simple smile on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s body tensed up at the contact, and the healer shook Oliver off, chuckling awkwardly. “Come on, now, I need you to take your Skele-Gro--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Skele-Gro?” Oliver yelped, yanking himself away from Percy. The man shook his head vigorously as he nearly leapt off the bed -- if it hadn’t been for the suspension charm, he would have probably vaulted out of the third-floor window regardless of how many bones were currently in his leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t like Skele-Gro, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No, very bad,” Oliver shouted at Percy, clenching his eyes shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy calmly explained, “Oliver, you injured your ankle again, I need to regrow your bones--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s eyes shot open, his jaw dropping slightly. “The match,” he said quietly, as if he’d only  just now remembered he was a Quidditch player. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s correct, you were injured in the game yesterday. It’s Sunday morning, do you remember--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did we win?” Oliver, a nervous wreck, stared at Percy and spoke with great urgency. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Puddlemere United won the semi-final--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy was cut off when a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist and hugged him. He nearly tumbled on top of Oliver, but grabbed the headboard to keep balance. Oliver buried his face into Percy’s stomach, which was now filled with butterflies after the close contact -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professional, professional, professional. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, we’re going to the final,” Oliver celebrated tearfully. “I-I-I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- fuck Marcus Flint, we’re so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>than him. Oh MERLIN, I can’t believe we won--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations,” Percy laughed, patting Oliver’s back. Taking a deep breath, Percy attempted to shake his way out of Oliver’s grasp to no avail. The well-built Quidditch player continued gripping Percy’s waist with his strong hands. Imagine what that grip would be like if Oliver was holding him against -- bloody hell, Percy needed to focus. A few shakes later, Oliver released him, but kept a hand on the ends of Percy’s robes as if it was a leash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are ye going?” He looked up curiously. “Can I wear yer glasses?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy gently pushed down the hand reaching towards his face. “No, I need them to see. I’m preparing your dose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver dragged his hands over his face, moaning. “But I dinnae </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>Skele-Gro,” he pouted. “Percy, why are ye being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I thought ye liked me--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy pointed at the injured leg. “Oliver, I can’t leave you with a boneless lower leg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver gasped in an odd combination of shock and horror. “Where’d they </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He mumbled, reaching for the limb only for Percy to intervene. “How did they go away? Did they run away? Bones can’t run away…” he furrowed his brows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch it,” Percy ordered. “I vanished the bones -- you had a few fractures, and some ligament injuries. I don’t want to risk muscle damage as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver mumbled something else, but Percy wasn’t even certain it was words. It was probably just a nervous grumble, based on how Oliver shifted side to side, still trapped by the suspension charm. Percy found the first dose of Skele-Gro and added another few centimeters of liquid, keeping a plain expression as another burst of odor filled the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy presented the cup to Oliver, who clutched a spare pillow over his face as though Percy wouldn’t be able to find him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, you need your bones--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock me out,” he pleaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would interfere with the healing,” Percy replied. “You’ve taken Skele-Gro before, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dinnae like it. Tasted bad,” he stuck his tongue out. His speech was slurred, and the pain relievers still hung heavy over his system. “Makes me sick -- what if we found my bones and put them back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean makes you… do you have side effects?” Percy glanced at Oliver’s file. He’d taken Skele-Gro several times over the course of his career -- four times to be exact. It was a standard for Quidditch players, albeit an unpleasant one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dinnae remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Oliver whined. “And… and I run.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was an odd way to phrase it, but it wasn’t unheard of for Skele-Gro patients to… to </span>
  <em>
    <span>emancipate </span>
  </em>
  <span>themselves from medical treatment. The apparating-disaster patient had tried to sprint down the corridor when Percy ordered him to an additional two hours of bedrest, accidentally fracturing one of his new ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy chuckled, “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about you </span>
  <em>
    <span>running </span>
  </em>
  <span>this time, Oliver.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver continued to glare suspiciously at the disgusting cup of liquid. Percy nudged the potion closer and closer to him, his frown growing more and more severe. “Ollie, if you don’t take it, I’ll have to restrain you. Your bones are gone. We need to regrow them -- unless you’d prefer I amputate them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver stuck his tongue out and scrunched his nose. Percy tutted a response, but Oliver leaned back as far as the suspension charm would allow, waving a hand and nearly knocking the cup over. Percy grabbed Oliver’s hand and wrapped it around the cup, keeping it in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, do I have to call the Mediwizard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver paused for a moment, and took the cup. He immediately hid it under his arm and smiled politely at Percy. “Nae, I drank it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can see that you didn’t take it, Oliver.” Percy had to suppress a smile. Oliver was a bad liar, that was good to know. Hang on, good to know? Why did Percy need to know that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, where’s the cup? No Skele-Gro left, I drank it all,” Oliver lied. The cup was still on his lap. “No need for anymore assistance.” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mediwizard--” Percy raised his voice, but Oliver tugged on his robes to silence him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t call the mediwizard,” Oliver begged. “I dinnae like being restrained.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take the potion,” Percy ordered, pulling away to stand upright. “Now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver stuck his bottom lip out, looking up at Percy with soft, sad eyes. Percy refused to weaken his resolve. Oliver sighed, holding the cup up and staring at its contents. At the pace of a snail, Oliver raised it to his mouth. His lip rested on the edge of the goblet, any movement ceased.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, now drink.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shuddered as he swallowed the potion, throwing the cup to the ground the second it was empty. He gagged, wiping his tongue on the edge of his hospital gown. Percy retrieved the cup, filling it with water and returning it to Oliver. He took it eagerly, trying to wash the taste out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Satisfied, Percy went to the door. “You won’t be able to eat for a few hours more, but--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave </span>
  </em>
  <span>me,” Oliver whispered, his eyes wide in fear. “No, ye can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy frowned, looking at Oliver. He was hugging the pillow so tightly that his knuckles were white. His jaw was set like he was going into battle, but his eyes were watery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye can stay here, I won’t bother ye, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Oliver pleaded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy frowned. He had paperwork to do, but perhaps he could do it here. It would make sense, Oliver was his patient. Nothing unprofessional about… about staying around. And Skele-Gro was a painful process, perhaps company would be good for him. For both of them, Percy could do with sharing an office for a bit. With a flick of his wand, a set of chairs transfigured into a sturdy wooden desk and Percy raised his eyebrows at Oliver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a moment -- don’t move, Ollie,” Percy said. Oliver nodded in that unconvincing way that suggested if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>move, he absolutely would. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Percy returned, Oliver was quiet but stared at Percy with hardly a blink to be seen. He must have been bored out of his mind as they waited for the Skele-Gro to kick in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, I can get a book or perhaps a radio. I’m sorry we lack in entertainment--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy looking at ye,” Oliver smiled. “Yer very pretty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tried not to blush, reminding himself that his patient’s pain relieving potions had not worn off yet. He certainly didn’t mean anything he said. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver batted his eyelashes and tilted his head to the side, showing off his grin. “Do people tell ye that often, Percy? Yer so pretty, and smart, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, Percy was professional. And he needed to remain as such.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we talk about something else, Mr. Wood?” Percy looked back at his documents, trying to remember what made department memos worth paying attention to when there was a handsome bloke only a few feet away. Merlin’s backwards kneecaps, Percy needed to get his mind out of the gutters. It was the lack of sleep, that must have been it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer my favorite thing to talk about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well… I don’t enjoy talking about myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t Oliver let the topic drop? He was a national celebrity, surely he had better things to talk about than his temporary healer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I simply don’t enjoy it, Oliver.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was quiet for a few minutes, and Percy finished the order form for new examination equipment. He occasionally glanced up at Oliver, who was playing with a pillow over his head. Percy managed to get through another report before he was interrupted by a large, fluffy object.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We won the game?” Oliver tossed a pillow at Percy, who managed to catch it. “Ye would make a good Chaser. Re-- Reflexes,” he slurred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You won,” Percy smiled, putting the pillow on the ground next to him. A second later, another pillow hit him and almost knocked over his ink pot. That would have been disastrous, so Percy frowned severely at his patient. “Ollie, stop this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I have my pillow back? I dinnae have anywhere to put my head,” Oliver pressed his face against the mattress softly, stroking the bedsheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t throw the pillows, then,” Percy stood, collecting the pillows. He’d have to put a sticking charm on them, or else Oliver would continuously throw them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae,” Oliver shouted. “Stay there. Toss ‘em.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t throw--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer a chaser,” Oliver sat up, waving side to side. “I’m a Keeper. I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keeper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m sure you are, but I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>healer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Oliver,” Percy continued walking. “I’m not throwing the pillows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wood blocks the shot, Puddlemere leads, 50-0,” Oliver’s words tumbled against one another, and Percy could barely understand him. Oliver shifted when he came over, making space for the pillows. “Can I wear yer glasses?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve asked that, I said no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are yer robes green?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a healer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish they were blue, like yer eyes. Ye should wear blue more often.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Percy smiled, locking the pillows in place. “I thought you were going to try to rest, Oliver.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” he wriggled under the blankets again, closing his eyes. “Yer so good to me, Percy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my job, Ollie.” Patients were quite entertaining at this point of their pain medication. Whenever it wore off, Percy was sure he would be less pleasant and hopefully, less attractive. One could dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver mumbled a few more times as Percy kept working but he was on the whole better behaved. Even when Percy adjusted the pillows behind him, Oliver’s scowl only lasted a few seconds when he was reminded that he needed to stay at St. Mungo’s until his treatment was done. He asked a few more times what Percy was working on, but eventually fell silent. Then, he began groaning softly, shifting on the bed. The hospital blanket was on the ground, kicked by Oliver’s good leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver grunted in response.“I want pain medication.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t going to be a clearer signal that the previous potions had worn off as the Skele-Gro set in. Percy glanced at the clock anyways, confirming it. Oliver had seven hours to go until his bones were back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please-- fuck. Ye’ve poisoned me,” Oliver growled in a raspy voice. “Trying to kill me -- probably hired by Flint.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Healer Weasley, I’m--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ken who ye are,” Oliver let out a few heavy breaths. He turned his head to the side, pressing his face into one of the pillows in an attempt to suffocate himself. “My bloody leg -- cut it off, ye said ye’d amputate--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver fiercely tore at the pillows on the bed. Unable to remove them due to Percy’s sticking charm, Oliver settled for ripping a hole in the top one, feathers flying in a miniature tornado around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy placed a hand on his wand cautiously. “You need to calm down or--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock me out,” Oliver turned to him, the bags under his eyes making him look wild. “Sleeping draughts, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t an option, and Percy told Oliver that. It did little to ease his pain. He slumped on the bed, glaring at Percy furiously. Fortunately, Percy didn’t have to deal with the Quidditch player’s temper alone for long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Wood,” Harry appeared in the door with a grin. “Ready for visitors?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What d’ya want, Potter?” Oliver moaned, trying to roll over only to be stopped by the suspension charm. “Percy, take this off--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps some company will be good for you,” Percy cleared his throat. “Ollie, won’t visitors be nice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First names already?” Ginny ducked through the door, an enormous blue and yellow gift basket in her arms. Percy forced a smile as he glared at his younger sister. Couldn’t Harry have come alone? “Moving fast, Perce, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That for me?” Oliver grunted, pulling himself into a seated position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be in the hall--” Percy moved towards the door, but Ginny stopped him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, you should stay,” Ginny winked. Percy rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, enjoy your visitors,” Percy stepped past his younger sister. Harry hardly noticed Percy’s disappearance, already eagerly discussing the semifinal match and post-match celebrations that had taken place the day before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the documents in his desk, Percy resettled in a chair in the hallway, continuing through a report on boomslang skin as a potential ingredient in potion-burn recovery treatment. It was nearly publishable… but Percy noticed a flaw on the twenty-seventh page. He’d have to send it back to the healer intern for editing, but it was good work nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he flipped to another assignment, he heard feet scampering down the hall and glanced up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Perce!” Harry came flying towards him, hair sticking up more wildly than usual. His glasses were missing. “You might want to come talk to Wood, he’s getting a bit… funny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Merlin’s beard,” Percy jumped to his feet, scooping his papers under his arm. He could only imagine what Oliver had done unsupervised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Percy pulled open the door, he stopped in place, blood rushing to his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something when Harry toppled into him from behind and Percy tumbled to the floor. Ginny was doubled over in laughter on the opposite side of the room. Clearing his throat and trying to keep his eyes trained on the ground, Percy offered a hand to Harry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“G-Ginny,” Harry laughed, wiping away tears. “You were supposed to stop him if he climbed out again--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mate, he’s got a hundred pounds on me--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to leave,” Oliver muttered, blanket falling from his mouth. He moaned, burying his face into his biceps. “Let me--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again? You should have come to get me the first time -- Oliver, stop moving.” Percy finally crossed his arms and looked at Oliver. Specifically, he looked at Oliver’s bare ass hanging  out from his upside down hospital gown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did Percy’s mind have to notice how nice Oliver’s ass was? That </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t professional nor was it the issue at this time. Of course, it now meant that his stupid brain had automatically saved the image for more dubious purposes -- no, Percy would meditate on it later, try and clear his mind the way Muggles did. Oliver, who was stuck in a handstand with his leg still entrapped in the suspension charm, shifted on his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, you’re going to need another round of Skele-Gro if you break your bones </span>
  <em>
    <span>while they’re growing</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy bent an arm under Oliver’s shoulder to lift him back onto the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My leg, yer moving my bloody leg!” Oliver wailed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s...hard…” Percy huffed, “to… keep… it… still!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me give you a hand, Perce. He’s heavier the second time.” Harry put an arm under his friend, tossing Oliver’s naked upper body onto the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s face had turned crimson, both from the exertion of the handstand and the embarrassment of exposure. Harry was out of breath from laughter, and he sat on the ground next to Ginny, who was still giggling madly. Percy looked around, seeing the shattered glasses and torn sheets around the bed. It looked like a wild animal had stormed through the hospital room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was hot,” Oliver muttered. “And my leg hurts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem to have a fever,” Percy mumbled. “I’ll get you some ice chips, cast a cooling charm… and I’m not leaving you unsupervised again. You’ve destroyed the gown, I’ll need to get another.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were spares kept in every hospital room and fortunately, there was one in Oliver’s size. Percy tried to ignore Oliver’s chest as he slid the man’s arms through the sleeves and tried to remove the torn gown underneath. Oliver mussed his sweaty hair, pouting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she had enough lung power to mock other people again -- Percy considered that Ginny might have perished if she didn’t do so at least once every few minutes -- Ginny grinned. “Wood, you should take Percy out to dinner first.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wouldn’t that be nice? The little voice whispered in the back of Percy’s head, but it felt more like a scream. Professional, he reminded himself. Be </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginevra,” Percy clutched the destroyed garment in his hand, his knuckles turning white. “I’m going to have you escorted from the hospital if you harass </span>
  <em>
    <span>my patient</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She can stay,” Oliver mumbled. “But if ye don’t shut up, Weasley-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ginny</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’ll stop,” Harry grinned stupidly, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “Wood, if the potions work, you’ll forget what happened in a few minutes -- but </span>
  <em>
    <span>we never will</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Pity us for that, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If ye ever mention </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of this to the team,” Oliver narrowed his eyes and pointed at Harry. “Yer dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy crouched down, scooping the broken glass and bent metal frames into his hand. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Occulus Reparo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Miraculously, the glass reassembled in the frame before the metal fused once more.  “Oliver, did you break these glasses by hand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After I refused to accept his bribe,” Harry laughed, accepting his repaired glasses happily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shrugged. “I dinnae what yer talking about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You must have been quite angry. I can’t blame you when it comes to these two--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” Ginny gasped in mock offense. Percy ignored her. She knew exactly what he was referring to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me see your hands,” Percy sat down, pulling out a small bottle of dittany. The player’s hands were covered in a series of small scratches and Percy dabbed them gently.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver, who was gritting his teeth, tried to partake in a discussion on the team celebrations and the coach’s plan to return him to the field for the final. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, if he doesn’t heal, I’ll assume you’ve been bribed by the Tornadoes,” Harry chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Percy ignored the comment. Oliver’s hands were warm as Percy brushed across them, and the cuts and scrapes rapidly disappeared. Percy rubbed his thumb into Oliver’s palm as the last cut disappeared and the player quickly pulled his hands back to his own lap, mumbling a thanks to Percy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny hopped on to the end of the bed. “So, Oliver, you and Percy must have gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>very well-acquainted </span>
  </em>
  <span>this morning--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wasn’t going to stand for his sister attempting to embarrass his patient twice in such a short period of time. He crossed his arms, turning to look at her with a scowl.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley,” Ginny said snidely. “I’m attempting to have a conversation with my very dear friend. If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>supervise, please remain over there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s scowl deepened, but he took a seat to the side. Ginny, thankfully, stayed away from the topic and led a friendly conversation not related to any imagined romance between the healer and patient. When Harry and Ginny left a few hours later, Oliver grew fidgety and Percy tried to talk him down as his accidental magic tore open a window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting out,” Oliver growled. “Ye said the bones are all back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they’re quite fragile. I know it’s painful--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How bad is the injury? Am I going to play again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy must have hesitated too long, because Oliver’s face froze and his shoulders went limp. Shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t guarantee anything,” Percy replied honestly. “But your ACL appears to be attached to the tibia. With proper physical therapy, and perhaps a few weeks rest, you can lead an active lifestyle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was quiet, nodding slowly. “So I’ll have to follow yer silly rules to play.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy frowned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, but that can’t have been my last game. Hell of a match, but the next one will be even better,” Oliver grinned as if he’d won the lottery. “Listen, I can get ye tickets. My family’s not big anyways and they give us plenty--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As quickly as Oliver got the invitation out, Percy shook his head vigorously. It was hard not to feel guilty as Oliver’s face fell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye don’t like Quidditch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would be inappropriate to accept a gift from a patient,” Percy cleared his throat. Yes, very good, he was being professional. He’d been offered game tickets by other Quidditch patients, this wasn’t… it wasn’t unusual. Oliver was merely being polite and gracious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But ye won’t be my healer then--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” Percy interrupted, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. Why did Oliver have to make good points? “I already have tickets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They won’t be as good as these,” Oliver wiggled his eyebrows. “Right behind the Puddlemere hoops.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And right behind Oliver Wood’s arse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the whispering voice added gleefully. Percy did everything in his power to ignore the intrusive and unprofessional thought about what a great view he would have from Oliver’s proposed seats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fred and George have a box for the family,” Percy shrugged. “Sorry, Mr. Wood, I can’t--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I offer tickets to the match of the year and I become Mr. Wood again?” Oliver laughed. Oh, didn’t he have a lovely laugh? “Ye’ll come to the celebrations after, won’t ye?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Celebrations? Don’t you have to win first?” Percy raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver grinned. “And we will. Once ye’ve fixed my leg up -- and I follow </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of yer rules -- we’re unstoppable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ambition and dedication were admirable and Percy couldn’t help but smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>you win and </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not required to work and </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span> I can get into the celebrations, I’ll see you there. Quite a few assumptions, Mr. Wood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If yer willing to make that promise, I’m willing to follow yer silly rules, Healer Weasley,” Oliver grinned. He flinched after and Percy took advantage of the show of pain to change the topic. Thank goodness, that conversation was bordering on… on unprofessionalism. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need to apply another suspension charm,” Percy raised his eyebrows. “Can’t have you running off on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would never run off on you,” Oliver winked dramatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve tried three times today,” Percy smirked, casting the charm. Oliver pouted, a poorly hidden smile behind it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver Wood was released into his family’s custody later that day, the leg as good as new -- or it would be after a few weeks of recovery. Percy was almost sad to see him go. They’d enjoyed a rather pleasant afternoon despite Oliver’s frequent complaints about Skele-Gro or the poor interior design of the hospital room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was better that they didn’t see one another, Percy decided. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>since he seemed to have lost all control over his mental capacities. Around Ginny, who constantly teased him about Oliver and their dramatic (and false) love affair, he was able to dismiss the mockery and remind her of his professional capacity in Oliver’s recovery. But alone…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy Weasley didn’t believe in denial, because he was a very forthright and frank person. That is, with everyone except himself. It started a few days after Oliver’s discharge, as he took his cigarette break on the sidewalk in front of St. Mungo’s. The Prophet, as usual, was blabbering about the odds of the Tornadoes against Puddlemere in the final. Percy thought it was ridiculous to bet on Quidditch -- matches could go any way, regardless of what people said. But then, his eyes caught on the paragraph concerning Oliver Wood’s absence from recent practices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wood, 30, is laid up in bed with a serious injury. Perhaps if he could pull up his bootstraps and straddle a broom, Puddlemere would have a fighting chance next month.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s preposterous,” Percy muttered to himself. Oliver was only thirty and, according to Diggory’s reports, his recovery was going wonderfully. If he didn’t play for at least part of the final match, it would be quite a surprise. “He can stay in bed and straddle brooms later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to see him straddle something else in bed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy’s mind thought suddenly and without warrant. Percy almost swallowed his cigarette and spit it on the ground, stamping it out. Bloody hell, the chemicals in his brain were on something odd. He wondered if there was a potion to fix that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A week later, Percy was half-asleep in a meeting for the gala planning committee when the image of Oliver Wood’s buff, muscular chest appeared in his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy frowned, trying to dismiss it. But the little voice in the corner of his mind asked whether perhaps the image should stay. It was keeping him awake after all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather fall asleep than… than imagine a patient like that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aha,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the voice replied. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he’s not your patient, is he?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wished the stupid voice wasn’t so good at arguing. Fortunately, not seeing your patients, or former patients, made being a professional quite easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The week leading up to the final, Percy didn’t dare pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet. Prophet photographer Colin Creevey had been reprinting his best Puddlemere photos from the season. Percy didn’t need to give his dreams any more material. And he’d been having quite a few dreams. By all accounts, they were rather tame, usually starting in the hospital room and hardly rounding first base but still, it was wrong. It was a fantasy, nothing more. It would pass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Early on a Saturday morning -- mere hours after Percy’s previous shift had ended -- Fred barged into his apartment with blue and yellow make-up all over his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy!” Fred shook him awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy groaned, rolling over in bed. “Give me back my spare key.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop living alone,” George strolled into the room, a Puddlemere flag tied around his neck like a cape. “Then we’ll give the key back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mum and Dad are already at Bill’s -- we’ll meet them at the stadium,” Fred yanked the blankets away and Percy squealed despite the fact he was wearing pyjamas. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Start the coffee,” Percy sat up, yawning widely. George shoved something into his hands -- aha, they’d brought coffee with them. Excellent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy sat up in bed, taking a sip that he immediately spit back into the cup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is this?” Percy gagged, trying to scrape off his tongue like Oliver had done with the Skele-Gro. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s decaf,” George snickered. “You’ve been drinking too much caffeine, that’s not healthy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s…” Percy coughed again, considering whether scourgifying his mouth would taste better or worse. There had to be something else wrong with this coffee. Decaf was bad but it wasn’t that bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He might be tasting the salt, Georgie,” Fred suggested. “I was right, sugar and salt only </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>the same--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bugger off,” Percy threw the hot coffee at the twins, watching it evaporate in mid-air as George flicked his wand. “And go make me another cup of coffee -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>black</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Quidditch final, as expected, was spectacular despite lasting only two hours. His extended family scattered around him, all supporting Puddlemere on behalf of Ginny’s boyfriend (and a general opposition to the Tornadoes). Even Percy, who generally insisted on neutrality at professional sporting events, was in a blue and yellow jersey. He’d opted for one without any last name, however -- it wouldn’t do to show favor towards a particular </span>
  <em>
    <span>player</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if that Keeper was performing magnificently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally, Percy rooted for Chasers -- specifically, his sister -- but in this case, Puddlemere United was simply playing so well. Oliver blocked another shot and Percy leapt to his feet in a cheer along with the rest of the stadium. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ON YOUR LEFT,” Percy screamed, as if one of the Puddlemere Chasers could hear him. The bludger flew past her, barely grazing her arm. His Healer instincts set in -- twenty minutes rest, a few bone repair spells to snap it into place. She’d make a full recovery, not even make a trip to St. Mungo’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Harry caught the snitch, the entire stadium went into a deafening roar. Even the small cluster of Tornadoes fans were amazed at the way Harry did a forward roll off of his broom before catching the Snitch with his spare arm before he swung back onto the broom triumphantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred and George had placed </span>
  <em>
    <span>several </span>
  </em>
  <span>bets on the match -- perhaps they were the ones who needed an </span>
  <em>
    <span>intervention</span>
  </em>
  <span> for their gambling habits. Great, big smiles on their faces, the twins disappeared to collect while Ginny raced to the locker room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, are you heading home?” Bill scooped up an overexcited (and probably overtired) Louis.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--” Percy bit his lip for a second, already looking at the row of Floo fireplaces. It would be rather easy to go home. But he didn’t want to do that, did he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maman,” Dominique tugged on Fleur’s robes. “Can we go meet ze players now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon Uncle Percy,” Victoire scrambled up onto the seat next to Percy, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Chuckling, he let her climb onto him. She was getting a bit big for this, but Percy wasn’t going to be the first uncle to say so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stick around a bit longer,” Percy smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s getting absolutely sloshed at those celebrations,” Fred butted in, wagging his tongue. Bill, now carrying both Louis and Dominique, frowned suspiciously at his younger brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Once the children go home, isn’t that right, Freddie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred’s smirk in response didn’t leave Percy feeling reassured that he’d have any memory of the night if the twins had their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music boomed in Percy’s ears as Lee Jordan rose to make yet another announcement. Percy had asked himself more than once why he was here. Yes, the first few minutes had been pleasant, his family reminiscing the best moments of the match and his young nieces and nephew playing games around his ankles. But now… now it was a big, crowded room of people that Percy didn’t know particularly well all dancing and singing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wasn’t one for the party scene, he never had been. His mother seemed to feel the same, following his nieces around while they ran Quidditch player to Quidditch player seeking autographs and pictures. His father however… he was having the time of his life dancing with Angelina and George out on the dance floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And now, a speech!” Lee lowered the radio volume slightly, waving his wand to produce a shower of confetti. “From Puddlemere Captain Rudyard Simmons!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The burly Chaser climbed up, dragging Oliver with him -- it was the closest Percy had been to Oliver since the hospital. Even halfway across the room, Percy could see how wide his grin was. They’d won after all, who wouldn’t smile? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, thank you,” Simmons waved his hand and the cheering and applause died out. Percy leaned against the wall, sipping from his water -- the only thing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>cost money at the Quidditch club’s bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you to my team, my family -- they might as well be the same,” Simmons laughed, wrapping an arm around Oliver’s shoulders. “We won today, and it’s because these men and women </span>
  <em>
    <span>ride, bleed, and die </span>
  </em>
  <span>United!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tried not to roll his eyes -- perhaps that was why so many of their players ended up in the hospital each season.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve… I’ve been with this team my whole career,” Simmons started getting choked up. “It’s been an honor. And a privilege. And I look forward to watching you defend this victory next year… under Captain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oliver Wood!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simmons seized Oliver’s hand, thrusting it into the air as the room went wild. Oliver, his hair still wet from the locker room showers and his jersey shining a new pennant badge, gave a magnificent laugh before he picked up his former captain and twirled him around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Simmons retiring,” Bill elbowed him. “Didn’t expect that one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had seen the man’s medical file and knew that Simmons’ back was absolute shit, so it wasn’t at all surprising that he would retire. Not that he could say so to Bill. But another -- and perhaps, more important reason -- came as Simmons embraced his wife and young children. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To the next step in yer career!” Oliver joined the family’s hug, lifting one of the children onto his shoulder. “To Simmons!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the speech was over, Percy kept trying to find a reason to stay at the party. Bill was too busy with the kids, his parents had retired to the side with old associates, the twins were practically socialites, and Ginny was sidled up next to Harry. Beyond watching the occasional speech -- usually a Puddlemere manager  -- or interacting with a former patient, Percy relaxed by the bar and watched the scene in front of him. In particular, he indulged in watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>a person </span>
  </em>
  <span>in that scene. There was nothing wrong with it, he rationalized. It was Puddlemere United’s victory party and Oliver Wood was the star. And hadn’t it been Oliver who suggested he’d come? Yes, that’s why he was here. His family and Oliver had encouraged him to come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The new Puddlemere captain was making the rounds, hugging his fellow players and friends, landing a kiss on a fair amount of cheeks. He was so happy. Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anybody so happy in their lives. It was as if he’d been told that he was going to live a thousand years. Quidditch was Oliver’s entire life, it seemed. Perhaps that was an accurate description. So there he was, the picture of happiness. His wet hair hung loosely by the top of his ears, and Oliver’s smile was there with a permanent sticking charm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And his eyes… Percy couldn’t get a very good look until the brown eyes trained directly on him. Shit, Oliver Wood was coming over, he was walking towards Percy, he was stopping right in front of him, he was--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy!” Oliver grabbed him in a hug, squeezing their bodies together. Percy wondered if he needed to work out as Oliver’s extremely fit chest pressed into his much lankier one. “Ye came!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tilting his head slightly, Percy could smell Oliver’s freshly-cleaned hair. Puddlemere probably had imported shampoos or something, it was a fantastic, woody scent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Err… yes. Congratulations, Captain Wood,” Percy gave a brief smile, relieved when Oliver released him and stepped back. He hadn’t been able to find words to say when Oliver was that close to him. Even leaning against the bar a few feet away… Percy could still smell that intoxicating shampoo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, I get yer love for formalities now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Healer Weasley</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Oliver laughed. “But I think I still prefer hearing ye say Ollie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you say, Captain Ollie.” Hang on, was Percy… no, he didn’t flirt. This wasn’t going on. Professional, he reminded himself. “Excellent match.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi,” Oliver leaned over the bar. “Percy, what do ye want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know exactly what you want</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the voice giggled. Percy shook his head, trying to explain he was all set with water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is the man who made sure I could play today,” Oliver explained to the bartender. “Any of that champagne left?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy gave a mild protest, but the two of them had champagne flutes in hand moments later. Their conversation was fantastic, although it was frequently interrupted by congratulations from passersby. Oliver beamed every time somebody patted his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, your block in the second hour -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>magnificent</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy’s hand landed on Oliver’s shoulder. Instead of beaming, Oliver looked at Percy’s eyes, a slight smile on his lips. Percy’s hand stayed still for a few seconds as if stuck to Oliver. Percy had never looked too deeply into the Keeper’s brown eyes, but he could see small orange flecks near the center now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver looked as though he was waiting patiently to ask Percy a question. Percy had no idea what that question was, but he hoped it wasn’t about work. Percy was so tired of being a professional of being in denial -- fuck it, he had a crush on Oliver Wood. And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>his Healer anymore. Then again, Oliver was the captain of a championship team now, he wasn’t likely to have time to spend with boring old healers like Percy. Then again… this was probably the last time he’d see Oliver in such a setting. The little voice in the back of his mind suddenly took center stage:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, we should get drinks sometime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that him? Had he said that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Percy felt like he was watching the scene in slow motion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, I’d like that,” Oliver grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, that response freaked Percy out more than a denial would have and immediately started backtracking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ll probably be busy,” Percy brushed it off. “With the interviews and press… and besides, my schedule is very busy at work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver shrugged. “But we’ll make time. C’mon, I can’t injure myself whenever I want to see ye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose… I suppose we could,” Percy said nervously, unable to suppress a smile. Oliver clapped a hand on his shoulder and Percy almost melted on the spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Percy’s shoulder, and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span> and so… god, Percy needed to focus, he couldn’t buckle at the knees because a handsome man put his hand on his shoulder, especially if he was going to be getting drinks with Oliver Wood. Should he ask what drinks meant? No, no, it was platonic, he didn’t need to ask. They were mates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent, ye can write me or I can write ye--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s heart bubbled up as he imagined the excellent letter he’d send to Oliver with numerous suggestions of places to meet or visit when another conversation took over the entire room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ATTENTION!” Harry, apparently slightly tipsy, had vaulted his way onto the stage at the front of the room. “A SPEECH! I HAVE A SPEECH!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Potter,” Oliver laughed, elbowing Percy’s side. “What d'ya think he’s up to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy shrugged, watching as the Seeker strode across the stage in his blue and yellow jersey, running a hand through his messy black hair and constantly adjusting his glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny?” Harry peered out over the crowd. “Ginny, where are you? Ginny-- oh, there you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His younger sister, still in her Puddlemere supporter outfit, appeared at the other end of the stage. Her face was slightly red as she gave a slight wave to the crowd and whispered something to Harry. For a celebrity, Ginny still had a fair bit of stage fright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh,” Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and walked her to the center stage. Holding his wand at his throat, he amplified his voice as he circled his girlfriend. Percy watched with muted interest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I caught a snitch today, and that’s wicked,” Harry bowed as everyone applauded Puddlemere’s victory again. “But-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>but-- </span>
  </em>
  <span>I made the greatest catch of a lifetime when Ginny Weasley agreed to date me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy rolled his eyes, leaning back against the bar to watch whatever was happening unfold. A collective awe went around the room -- Potter was almost too sweet for Percy’s tastes -- while Oliver chuckled next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kiss!” One of the twins hollered from the dance floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a moment, Freddie-- or Georgie? No matter,” Harry brushed off the interruption. “For those of you who don’t know, Ginevra Weasley is a badass, super hot, sexy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did Harry recall who else was in the room? Ginny had six brothers -- five of whom were present and a sixth who would </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>catch wind of whatever Potter said -- not to mention her parents who were standing right next to the stage. Harry’s entire family was also standing near the front, but Harry didn’t seem to care as he continued with his slightly inappropriate list. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful, magnificent, magical goddess. And I don’t know why she’s with me, I really don’t,” Harry said in a rare show of modesty. “She’s the love of my life, and this victory wouldn’t mean anything if she wasn’t a part of my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny kissed him and everyone cheered, but Harry took a dramatic step back from his girlfriend to continue the announcement. “I took some risks on the pitch today, but I think this is the biggest risk yet.” He dropped to one knee. Everyone in the room, including Ginny, gasped. Percy was almost sure that he heard his mother scream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer, of course, was yes. Percy knew it would be, as well as Oliver, who muttered something about Harry not using his original speech.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was going to do that in the Azores, wasn’t he?” Percy whispered in response as everyone in the room rushed forward to congratulate the engaged couple. At least brunch at the Burrow would be exciting tomorrow morning. And Ginny wouldn’t have to fuss as much about her vacation wardrobe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver chuckled. “So about that letter--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy couldn’t answer, as Fred appeared next to them and started tugging him away. “Mum wants a family photo, Perce -- oh, hello, Wood--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So sorry,” Percy nodded at Oliver. “Ah, yes, Mr. Wood, I’ll certainly be… be in touch on that matter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred didn’t need to know that Percy had somehow gotten the stones to ask Oliver Wood to drinks, and it was easier to adopt a professional veneer. Besides, he’d send a letter soon enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The matter--” Oliver frowned, but Percy had disappeared into the crowd. He was left with the image of Oliver standing by the bar, an empty champagne flute in hand and a confused expression on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny was too ecstatic to do anything but kiss Harry or show off her massive engagement ring. Fortunately, Percy was only needed for a few photos. He glanced back at the crowd, seeing another line of well-wishers forming a ring around Oliver. Ah, no need to bother him. Percy slyly slipped out the door with Bill’s family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger children, who had been overtired before the party, were exhausted now and it took three adults to carry them. Percy eventually got back to his empty flat. He tried to recall what had happened. Had Oliver agreed to get drinks, or had he merely said it would be a good idea? Percy thought over every word of the conversation -- he needed to give Oliver an out, perhaps he’d only been being polite. And Percy would review the St. Mungo’s policy guidelines… in case he needed an excuse to get out of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Write the letter, Percy reminded himself. Get drinks with his new mate, Oliver Wood. Oliver might make a good mate, who knew? The idea of having Oliver as a good friend was nice, but it did nothing to deter image of Oliver on his broom. The image that refused to disappear from Percy’s mind. Bloody hell, this was getting complicated. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're halfway through! Thanks to everyone who's been reading along! So, do you think Percy will be able to hold to those platonic intentions? Comment your thoughts/predictions, we love reading them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. How to Not Be A Professional</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dropping his quill back into the inkpot, Percy sighed and crumpled the parchment, tossing it toward the rubbish bin. It bounced off several other failed and abandoned attempts, rolling across the floor until it settled in the corner of the flat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dear Oliver Wood,” Percy mused aloud. “This is Percy Weasley from…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>St. Mungo’s? No, he couldn’t identify himself as a healer, that would make it a professional letter. And Percy didn’t want to be a professional, he wanted to be Oliver’s associate. Dare he say he wanted to be Oliver’s friend. If he was honest, Percy wanted… No, back to the letter.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He bloody well knows who I am,” Percy grumbled, scribbling another attempt. It was an invitation to get drinks, that was all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To Oliver Wood, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is Percy Weasley. I hope this letter finds you well, please pardon my owl. I typically send my correspondence from the office. This is Hermes. If he is still pecking at your fingers, feed him whatever you have on hand -- it should do wonders. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In reference to our previous conversation, I wanted to again suggest meeting for a casual night at a pub or similar establishment. I can invite my brothers, Fred and George will surely have a location to recommend. My schedule in the upcoming weeks is difficult to work with -- I’m sure you are aware of the upcoming Quidditch League Gala. But a Thursday or Friday is ideal. Please share your availability at your earliest convenience, if you were interested. If not, apologies for any bother. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Percy Weasley </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermes,” Percy whistled. He watched his decrepit bird twist its head towards him, flapping its wings once or twice before finally taking off and landing on Percy’s desk. Percy smiled, scratching his owl’s head before offering a small treat. “Address… one moment, Hermes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy rifled through his desk drawer to find the address book. Oliver Wood lived with Harry Potter, and that was Ginny’s occasional address. He just needed to find it-- aha, there it was. Percy mumbled the address aloud as he wrote on the back of the envelope. Hermes dutifully stuck out his leg for the letter to be tied to, but Percy took a glance at the clock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin’s beard, it’s past midnight on a Sunday,” Percy rubbed his eyes and looked again. He’d spent longer than he’d thought writing the letter. “Sorry, Hermes, here’s another treat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was much too late to be sending letters, and Percy draped a blanket over Hermes’ cage to let him get some rest.  Percy left his desk with a yawn and a stretch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fully intended to send the letter but… the universe seemed set against him. On Monday, Percy overslept and rushed out the door with only a cup of coffee in his stomach -- that was all that was essential, anyhow. It wasn’t until he was at his desk that Percy realized he’d forgotten to send the letter. Oh, it could be done on Tuesday. Three days after the conversation seemed appropriate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That decision in mind, Percy hoped he could focus on work. But the letter… and more specifically, its recipient, stayed on his mind all day. When McKinnon went on a long tangent about the benefits of an open bar at the gala, Percy had to shake himself out of a daydream about Oliver Wood’s arse in his Quidditch uniform. It was utterly ridiculous. If he was going to get drinks with the bloke, he needed to get over his ridiculous crush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later in the day, the same thing happened. Percy caught himself looking fondly at the restraints on an examination table. He wondered what it would be like if he could lock Oliver Wood in there and for lack of a better phrase, go to town. Tightly pursing his lips to prevent himself from licking them, Percy missed the first few times his patient said his name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sincere apologies, Mr. Dearborn,” Percy gave a rare smile. “I’ll send the prescription down immediately. And stay off that foot until further notice, yes? Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time he got home that night (again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>too late to send a letter, it would need to be a task for the morning), Percy had experienced no less than four daydreams about Oliver Wood. It was incredibly distracting. Fred and George might have been right. Percy hadn’t shagged in quite a while. That night, Percy did get a good shag, but it wasn’t from a handsome bloke like Oliver Wood or a beautiful witch like… a beautiful witch. It was his left hand. He wasn’t sure if that counted as a shag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Intent on sending the letter on Tuesday morning, Percy pulled the blanket off Hermes’ cage and frowned. The bird was looking a bit under the weather shuffling further back to stay in the small area of shadow that was left. Could Percy have used another owl -- perhaps one at St. Mungo’s, or for rent in Diagon Alley -- to send the letter? Yes. But he’d referenced Hermes, and therefore, he needed to use Hermes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So another day passed with no letter sent. For Percy, this extra time was dangerous. Instead of panicking over a potential response, Percy began questioning the purpose of sending a letter at all. He wasn’t available in the next week -- Thursday was for babysitting his nephews and nieces. Friday, he’d be at a gala meeting. He was picking up shifts almost every other day. And Oliver was probably the same, with his post-championship interviews and cover stories. Merlin’s beard, Oliver Wood was the most famous man in Britain at the moment, he didn’t want to get drinks with some healer he’d met once or twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that in mind, Percy failed to send the letter again that night. Looking at it made him feel guilty, but rather than cope with that guilt by sending Hermes out the window, Percy simply slid the envelope into his desk drawer and resolved to think on the subject more deeply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During a midday meeting with McKinnon the next day, Percy couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He shouldn’t send it. Or would that be rude? He should send it then, Oliver was probably expecting it. Then again, Oliver was an incredibly handsome and popular Quidditch player who was probably too friendly for his own good. And too attractive for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>own good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A blonde intern -- Richards? Richardson? Rodrickson? Something along those lines -- knocked on Percy’s door, disrupted the discussion on fundraising projections. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley, you’ve been requested in the Spell Damage Ward -- some aurors have been admitted with cursed object wounds.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spell Damage? Alright, thank you. Tell… Matthews, McLaggen, and Scrimgeour to join me. If they haven’t already been summoned, that is,” Percy nodded. “Apologies, Healer McKinnon, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, go,” McKinnon nodded. “Excellent work as always. The gala next week should be an utter success.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the Spell Damage unit, a dozen aurors were laid up on beds. Percy’s healers went to work immediately, studying the wounds and debating with Spell Damage healers over the best way to proceed. Percy caught sight of his fellow department head and went over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Black, you requested me?” Percy politely interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you for coming, Weasley,” the dark-haired man replied, a small frown matching his neutral tone. “There was a duel over a dark amulet this afternoon, so it’s a mix of injuries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regulus Black began walking at a quick pace down a hospital corridor and Percy followed on instinct. “No fatalities,” Regulus continued. “But the deputy head auror is your terrain. Splinched himself while handling the amulet -- I wanted you to take a look.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened and Percy was caught off guard by how much the father resembled the son. Messy black hair, thick glasses, but blue eyes where Percy was used to seeing green. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reg, is this bloke going to bring back my fingers, or is my wife going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>disappointed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James Potter’s smirk was identical to his son’s as well. Percy had treated the deputy head auror once or twice before -- artefact accidents were common in Potter’s chosen career -- but he’d always been unconscious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regulus ignored the comment. “This is Healer Weasley--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not related to Ginny? One of the older boys?” James grinned. “You look familiar… sorry, she’s got so many of you--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy replied swiftly. “Yes, that’s my sister -- but I’m here to discuss your injury. Could I see your hand please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Percy began treating the injury under Regulus’ supervision, James prattled on about how much he adored Ginny and complained that Regulus’ bedside manner hadn’t improved at all since his previous stay at St. Mungo’s. At some point, the conversation went to the Head Auror, who was apparently unconscious in another room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Auror Black’s partner is in there now--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can call your brother-in-law by his first name,” James rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy ignored the continued dialogue, which included </span>
  <em>
    <span>several </span>
  </em>
  <span>comments about Regulus’ association with Deputy Minister Crouch, Jr. To be fair, it was a rather popular topic at parlor parties in the wizarding world, two bachelors living together in an ancient pureblood mansion. But it had no place in a medical examination room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Regulus Black left to tend to another patient, James turned to Percy. His coping strategy with pain was apparently to talk nonstop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, have you met Sirius? That’s Reg’s brother -- is Reg always like that at work?” James said, not waiting for a response. “Sirius got knocked out before we even got the amulet, but I’m sure Rem is too busy to fuss over him. Both </span>
  <em>
    <span>workaholics</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then again, Lil is too -- that’s my wife, have you met her?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Auror Potter, I’m going to apply the splinching salve, this will sting--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>not a workaholic -- they’re my best friends, you know, and of course, my wife, but shocking they ever-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” James swore, almost jerking his hand away. Percy kept it in lock. “Sorry, sorry, what was I saying? Oh, yes, so I’m always surprised that workaholics settle down with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it with the salve, you can rest here--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go visit Sirius,” James gulped, looking at the half-healed hand. “How long until I have fingers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A few days at least,” Percy nodded. “Your prescriptions will be available downstairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you…” he hesitated, searching Percy’s face. “Healer Weasley. Tell Ginny I said hello.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, have a good day,” Percy nodded, leaving the room and returning to his office. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s guilt over the letter dissipated gradually over the course of that day and the next. With all of the additional injuries and gala meetings to deal with, Percy hardly had time to think. And he was a workaholic, maybe James Potter was right -- it would be surprising if Percy </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>settle down with anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had his dress robes fitted no less than three times in the days leading up to St. Mungo’s 275th Annual Quidditch League. His mum attempted to convince him the robes were fine after the first fitting; he was only nervous about his speech. That was preposterous. He’d reviewed his speech numerous times and it was excellent. Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Fred, Lee, George, Angelina, Hermione, (Ginny again), Mum, Dad, and Dad’s cat Winston had all agreed it was fine when Percy rehearsed it. Charlie cut him off halfway through, complaining that he could only hear half the words in a long distance Floo Call. That wasn’t a criticism of Percy’s speech as much as it was a criticism of international communication networks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weasley,” McKinnon grabbed his attention, stopping Percy from climbing a ladder to check on the decorative lights for a second time. “Guests should be arriving soon. Yer in the line-up to greet them, aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were hundreds of guests to impress, and St. Mungo’s had coffers to fill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Healers, Quidditch professionals, the elite of the Wizarding World, and members of the press streamed into the Ministry Atrium, showing off their black and white ensembles. Each look was more ambitious than the last. It appeared the gala had become something of a fashion competition, which meant more press, which meant more attention for the hospital, which meant more funding. Brilliant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His twin brothers strolled in, linked at the elbow as Angelina and Lee followed close behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be with your partners?” Percy raised his eyebrows, shaking George’s hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>business </span>
  </em>
  <span>partner is as important as my romantic partner, Angie understands,” George winked at Fred. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And where’s your romantic partner, Percy?” Fred smirked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m at work,” Percy replied, moving on to the next guest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few prominent healers, ministers… they all shook Percy’s hand and moved on, offering a few compliments on the decor or asking about department initiatives. By the time Ginny showed up with a collection of teammates, Percy’s shaking hand was tuckered out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley,” she drawled, offering her hand to be kissed. Ginny’s hair was styled in an elegant topknot, her lipstick a dangerous red. Her earrings looked like they were worth more than their childhood home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chaser Weasley.” Percy delicately placed his lips to the back of his sister’s hand. “Don’t offer your hand to Fred or George, they’ll slobber all over it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ll have them kiss my ring,” Ginny flaunted her engagement ring again. Percy could have sworn it had grown in size since their previous brunch. He rolled his eyes, reminding her to enjoy the gala. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had reviewed the guest list no less than five times. He knew that there would be a face-to-face meeting with all of the Puddlemere players. After all, the championship team held the premiere seats at the Gala event. However, Percy had not anticipated the way his heart would leap out of his chest when he saw Oliver Wood standing at the head of the Puddlemere delegation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His white dress robes and black dress pants were complimented by a golden captain’s pin. His wavy brown hair was parted in the center. His eyes sparkled and Percy’s knees felt weak as the team approached. Oliver had probably forgotten all about the letter but Percy… Percy wished he’d sent it now, if only to get longer than five seconds to talk with the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley,” Oliver said stiffly, offering his hand. Percy took it, shaking it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain Wood,” Percy couldn’t help but smile. Heavens, had Oliver always been so dashing? And in that white suit jacket… fuck, he looked incredible. The little voice was going wild in Percy’s mind. “Welcome to the Gala, your seats should be by the front--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you sitting?” Oliver interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With the Planning Committee, table two,” Percy said. “But I’ll be floating around the room -- I’m more likely to find you than you are to find me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll say,” Oliver grumbled. Percy furrowed his eyebrows, but Harry took Oliver’s place and gave Percy a strong shake. Before Percy could call after Oliver and ask for clarification, Ginny presented her hand for another kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy frowned. “This is very unhygienic, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night, thus far, appeared to be a resounding success. After consuming a few crab legs to get rid of the nagging growl coming from his stomach, Percy began his rounds of the room. Fortunately, being a leading Quidditch healer at the top hospital in the country gave him some familiarity with players on each team, making it easy to sit in at tables for a few minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After several lengthy conversations -- dessert was being carried out now -- Percy finally landed at the first table, Puddlemere United. A seat was open next to the team manager, and Percy asked if he could sit for a while to offer a personal greeting from St. Mungo’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s Wood’s seat, he’ll be gone for a while,” Diggory piped up, digging into his chocolate torte. “These bloody pants take </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever </span>
  </em>
  <span>to unbutton.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lovely dinner table conversation, Diggory,” another player tossed a bread roll across the table, hitting the healer. Had it not been for Percy’s presence, it may have interrupted into a food fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, I’m Healer Percy Weasley of Artefact Accidents--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, you treated Wood! Earned us the pennant,” the manager clapped on his back and Percy pushed his glasses up, blushing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I believe that was all of you,” Percy complimented. “Excellent performance. I have some wonderful news for all of you. -- the League made a particularly generous donation this year, to develop a new treatment wing specifically for physical therapy… and it is to be named for the championship team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, that’s brilliant,” Harry beamed. “Wait until Ginny finds out she’s going to do her next recovery in the Harry Potter Healing Center--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said </span>
  <em>
    <span>team, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Potter,” Diggory rolled his eyes. “It’s the Puddlemere United Center.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, it’s not the Harpies Center, that’s what matters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy snuck away from the table as the players envisioned what they would name the physical therapy wing if they had the opportunity, and went backstage to prepare for the end-of-night speeches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flipping through his papers again, Percy found himself glancing at the Puddlemere table. Oliver had returned, still adjusting those dress pants -- damn, his arse looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>fantastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- no, focus Percy, focus. Harry whispered something to the Keeper, who looked directly at the stage, searching for something. His eyes landed on Percy, and Oliver waved. What should he do with that? It was a friendly greeting, Percy decided. He waved in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Hospital Director delivered the opening remarks, followed by the Quidditch League President, followed by Augusta Longbottom on behalf of the Board, followed by McKinnon:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And our next speaker may be familiar to many players in the audience tonight for his work with broomstick and transportation injuries. The Head of the Department of Artefact Accidents, Healer Percival Weasley!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A scatter of applause went through the room and Percy took a deep breath, striding onto the stage towards the wooden podium. The starry lights on the wall made it feel like he was in the depths of a black hole, but Percy focused in on the familiar faces he could find in the audience -- there was Ginny, there were the twins, there was Oliver -- nope, back to the twins, he needed to focus. They shared identical grins, and Fred shot a thumbs ups at Percy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good evening Quidditch enthusiasts, medical professionals, and…” Percy gave his paper a casual glance before looking up again with a plain expression. “Others.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got a slight chuckle out of the audience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We gather here tonight for a special occasion -- the annual St. Mungo’s Quidditch Gala. It’s a tradition going centuries back, ever since wizards invented a sport that led to enough injuries to develop a medical specialty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy turned a bit technical, giving examples of critical advancements in medicine that came from athletic injuries -- blood replenishing potions, artificial eyes, and wasp repellent, to name a few. The crowd was engaged, and the twins dramatically laughed at anything that seemed vaguely like a joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some may wonder why, if Quidditch is such a dangerous sport, it remains so popular across history,” Percy smiled. “Yet nobody asks why we have healing as a profession despite the danger we encounter, especially in a department like Artefact Accidents. But anyone in this room who plays Quidditch -- whether professionally or in the backyard with your children -- knows where I’m going with this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scanning the room in a beat of silence, Percy sighed peacefully. “As a Healer, my job is to keep you alive. But Quidditch… Quidditch makes you </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>alive. It’s what fuels you to get through a day in a way that a reviving spell will never be able to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Applause echoed through the room and Percy was a bit surprised to find that it wasn’t only his brothers and sister whistling and whooping at the final line of his speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, thank you,” Percy nodded his head, still beaming to the crowd. “Before I leave the stage, I have one final announcement. Thanks to the generosity of the League, the Department of Artefact Accidents will be constructing a new physical therapy wing to be named after your champions, Puddlemere United!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy stepped to the side as the entire Puddlemere United team -- reserves and administrators included -- came to the stage. A few cheers rose up from the players, who lined up for the flashing cameras and bowed to audience applause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy finally stepped away, walking towards the bar to enjoy his first drink of the night. People would filter out now, his work for the night was almost done. He grabbed a small tart as he walked by the St. Mungo’s table, his stomach demanding </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>to eat after the long night.  Taking a bite, Percy nearly choked when somebody patted his back roughly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Healer Weasley -- ye’ve been up to plenty of </span>
  <em>
    <span>writing </span>
  </em>
  <span>lately with a speech like that, aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy coughed a few times, spitting the remainder of the tart into a nearby rubbish bin. “Hello Oliver--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not Captain Wood, then,” Oliver followed Percy over to the bar, narrowing his eyes. Percy tugged at his color nervously. Oliver sounded more upset than Percy would have expected -- he’d probably taken the letter matter personally. Shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red wine -- whatever’s open, thank you,” Percy turned politely to the bartender. “Captain Wood, would you like anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, scotch,” Oliver nodded. He sighed, “Glad we can have that drink now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy rubbed the back of his neck, the guilt washing over him. Oliver had expected his new mate Percy Weasley to write a letter and he’d been silent for over a week. Oliver had every right to be miffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bashfully, Percy replied, “I wanted to have one with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver gave a small smile, teasing Percy, “Wayward owl, then? Used all the parchment on writing an excellent speech--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You liked my speech?” Percy smiled. “Sorry, it… it was partially inspired by you. Dedication to the sport and how… how it’s similar to healing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to finally get a drink with Oliver. Maybe they could grab another in a few weeks and become friends and then after being friends -- no, no, friends was good enough. Percy was nearly over that crush. Although, his return to normalcy had probably been delayed by how attractive Oliver looked sipping from the crystal glass of whiskey in those dress robes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve known,” Oliver replied. “I have a way with words.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have an excuse,” Percy admitted concerning the letter. “I should have written.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, I’m being a wee bit difficult. Ye threw quite the party,” Oliver shrugged. “Ye have a good reason to ignore a bloke even if the bloke is me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, I can’t buy you a drink here on account of the open bar, but I plan to -- even if I have to show up to the bloody Summer Palooza at the joke shop,” Percy smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver smiled as well, and Percy knew that the worst was behind them. This was the start to a rather beautiful friendship, wasn’t it? And… and Oliver had a rather nice smile. It was gorgeous in fact. Percy glanced at his nearly empty wine glass. He’d been parched, and he wasn’t doing any more speeches. There was nothing to worry about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their conversation was light and swift -- something about Percy’s attendance at a party from the twins, a few casual jokes from each of them. Percy ordered a second wine and leaned over the Keeper to grab it, brushing their arms together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was fit under there. No, no, Percy reminded himself. You’re two blokes, having a drink together. That’s it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to mention, Puddlemere has the best robes tonight.” Percy looked at Oliver’s robes again -- he’d hardly looked away from them all night, if he was being honest. And that was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>said, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Potter’s idea -- mentioned that we looked like some Muggle character, James Bond?” Oliver sighed, shifting slightly closer to Percy. Did he know the effect that </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Percy? “I wear what people tell me to wear, otherwise I wear my jerseys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nodded. “I only ever wear my healer’s robes, so I understand--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I saw ye wearing colored vests and ties underneath the uniform, Percy. Ye have fashion sense,” Oliver winked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy chuckled, hoping that Oliver didn’t notice the blush rising in his cheeks. Leaning against the bar -- and slipping slightly closer to Oliver -- Percy took another sip from his glass, savoring the sweetness of the dark red liquid. They continued talking -- an occasional compliment would slip out of one of their mouths, but Percy’s mind quickly forgot the insistence on being friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wine had a habit of making Percy a bit… </span>
  <em>
    <span>flirtatious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Especially on an empty stomach. But rationality, professionalism… it was off the table. Percy wished he could get Oliver Wood onto a table… oh no. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce,” Oliver spoke up, trying to get Percy’s attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy smiled, tilting his head to the side. How long had he been staring at Oliver? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ollie?” His tongue was getting a bit heavier, and Percy grabbed a handful of pretzels, trying to put </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his stomach before he started listing all of the inappropriate thoughts running through his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never thanked ye for saving my career --”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, Ollie was so silly. Percy was only doing his job, it wasn’t as though he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>saved </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oliver’s career. Shaking his head, Percy leaned in until their sides were touching. His hair smelled fantastic, it was the same shampoo as before. He probably had a sponsorship with one of the hair companies. Percy was sure it was expensive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Percy murmured. “Though I must say it is my job. I am good at my job--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good would be an understatement,” Oliver chuckled. He was so nice, Percy thought. How could anyone be so handsome, and so kind, and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>and not simply explode from how wonderful they were?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tried not to lick his lips as he watched Oliver trace the top of his glass, his thumb moving in a slow and steady circle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did ye become a healer, Perce? If ye don’t mind me asking… I think it’s relevant to the setting?” Oliver held his glass up slightly, nodding towards the tables of people eagerly talking to one another. “Was event planning in the cards?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy didn’t have to think too deeply -- it had been the 1994 World Cup, right before his seventh year at Hogwarts. “I apprenticed for a healer,” Percy grinned, remembering the chaos of being a fresh 17-year-old and running around after more experienced professionals. “That was when I knew I wanted to become one. Though… I didn’t see myself planning galas,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s face lit up. “Bulgaria versus Ireland -- when Krum caught the snitch and Ireland won -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>that World Cup</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Did you watch it, too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course -- it was an excellent match,” Percy nodded. “Krum got ahead of himself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Before ye were out of Hogwarts?” Oliver sounded surprised. Most people were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone said his name and Percy turned, seeing McKinnon waving. Ah, the crowds were beginning to head out. Percy broke away for a moment, promising he’d be at the review meeting the next afternoon to discuss the fundraising effort in greater depth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m talking to… err… Captain Wood,” Percy whispered. “Puddlemere United.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye never stop working,” McKinnon grinned. “Great work, Weasley.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy returned to the bar, sipping from his wine. Oliver’s eyes scanned over him, still waiting for a response. A shiver went down Percy’s spine -- that look made him feel like he wasn’t wearing any dress robes at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t conduct any healing or have contact with the players themselves,” Percy chuckled, explaining he’d only watched </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>healers do their jobs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that’s when ye fell in love with Quidditch injuries?” Oliver asked, taking another sip. A bit of scotch was left behind on his lips, and Percy wondered briefly what it would taste like before his mind reevaluated. Wasn’t he at work still? Did he care? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, yes,” Percy took a long sip of his wine, relaxing as it trickled down his throat. As he pulled the glass away, Percy licked his lower lip, capturing the last few drops. Should he order a third? No… unless Oliver ordered another round. Then it would only be polite to continue drinking. “I imagine you became invested in your work at a young age?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My father, Malcolm, makes brooms for Nimbus,” Oliver grinned. “He’s a bloody brilliant maker. We used to make them together when I was a bairn. Actually--” he paused, leaning in closer. Percy tilted his head up, feeling the heat of Oliver’s breath in between them. His eyes were magnificent. “He made my broom that I play on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A response, Percy thought. He needed a response. “Really?” Percy’s mouth was hanging open slightly. Blinking a few times, Percy nodded and took a step back to adjust. “That’s incredible. I only ever owned cleansweeps -- I have one tucked away in my cupboard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cleansweep is a steady broom. Carried Gryffindor to three cups thanks to yer brothers,” Oliver said. “I helped him make brooms. I hated walking only ever wanted to fly -- ever since I played. I was in the little leagues they do for children. Then the second year, I made it on the team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Second year, that was Percy’s first… right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that match</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “When the bludger hit your head?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye remember?” Oliver chuckled, rubbing the side of his head and pointing to where the scar must have been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t every day the first game you see at Hogwarts ends five minutes early because a player nearly died,” Percy mused. He looked at the scar, which peeked slightly through Oliver’s now-ruffled hair. “I noticed that before--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shrugged, “I’m sure ye have scars too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had three scars to be precise. One on his leg from when he’d tumbled out of a tree during an impromptu astronomy lesson with his father. The second on his shoulder from a Quidditch race with the twins. The third was on his knee after Percy, as a young boy, had decided to juggle his mother’s vases -- to great failure. But he didn’t want to discuss those. He wanted to talk about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oliver</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as many as you, I am sure, Ollie,” Percy purred, shifting on his feet to lean towards Oliver again. He decided to take a risk. Well, Percy didn’t so much as </span>
  <em>
    <span>decide </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his body acted the way it wanted to. He brushed his hand over Oliver’s, glancing up to check for a reaction. Oliver replied in kind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hardly moved away from one another and every slight touch, miniscule moment of contact, Percy felt electricity rush through his veins. It might have been the excitement of the night. It might have been the wine. But all signs pointed to Oliver Wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as though their conversation was even sexy. Percy told a few medical anecdotes while Oliver described his workout routine. When Percy mentioned a new medical journal, Oliver encouraged him to keep going, but cut himself off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer stunning,” his voice slurred, as Oliver gave a lazy wink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m stunning? Have you seen yourself?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy gave a nervous chuckle. “Had enough to drink?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, I’m alright,” Oliver rested the empty glass on the counter, taking a seat as he asked about the journal again. Percy joined him, flinching as their knees bumped into one another. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy </span>
  </em>
  <span>had certainly had enough to drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” Percy nodded. “It focused on rare curses that have risen over the discoveries of ruins in Wizarding societies. It has been causing alarm for holiday travelers -- some focused on general topics. Quality of care assessments and patient care standards--” Percy rambled for a bit, as he was prone to do when a bit of liquid courage was in his system. When he paused to make sure Oliver was still aware, the Keeper asked pertinent questions about Percy’s medical specialization and the role of the Artefact department.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Actually --” he paused. His ethical codes still applied when he was flirting with someone, even if Oliver would </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>find the story of James Potter’s injury fascinating. “I can’t tell you, but yes I work on curses pertaining to artefacts. Spell damage usually handles direct magic. I specialize in --”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magical Transportation,” Oliver finished. Had one of them moved closer? Their legs were now comfortably resting together, and Percy felt his chest growing warmer. This didn’t feel like a business dinner, and it didn’t feel… it didn’t seem like it was getting drinks with a mate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know a fair bit, Mr. Wood,” Percy mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were a few additional comments about World Cups and Transportation law when Oliver offered a new conversation topic, the book he was reading. Again, it was not a particularly sexy conversation. But with his accent and that magnificent set of dress robes, Oliver made everything sexy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I started reading a book on Quidditch’s relationship to colonialism among Muggles,” Oliver said. “Especially in the -- err -- the British Dominions? I can’t remember much of British colonialism.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s fascinating,” Percy spoke up, focusing on Oliver intently. He needed to look at his eyes so that he didn’t look down at his mouth. Merlin’s beard, if he wasn’t at a work event… “I vaguely recall the United States only joining the Cup in the 1800s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right. They didn’t qualify for some time. The Wizarding standards for recognizing governing bodies is different from the Muggle one’s -- if ye are interested I could let ye --”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Borrow it?” Percy asked. Even tipsy, the book intrigued him. And they could discuss it again. Perhaps over drinks. Oliver liked scotch, and Percy knew he had an old bottle somewhere in his flat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course… might need yer address for that--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Confidential</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy teased. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>is it?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Oliver whispered, leaning closer. Oliver’s face was only inches away, looking up at Percy with bright brown eyes. “Even for me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captain Wood?” Someone interjected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy was grateful when somebody interrupted -- thank god it wasn’t one of his siblings or coworkers. He probably would have climbed Oliver like a tree (despite being the taller one of the two) if somebody hadn’t shown up. Whoever this was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy sat by, only paying casual attention to Roger Davies, the dark-haired photographer for Witch’s Weekly. It was much more fun to watch Oliver attempt to lie about not receiving a letter which he clearly had. Oliver really was a terrible liar, it was cute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was on embossed paper,” Roger frowned. “And we had it sent express--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe my team intercepted it,” Oliver shrugged. “No way to be sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your manager actually told me to speak with you directly,” Roger looked back at the Puddlemere table, where a few of the players remained. Oliver groaned. He’d been caught. Percy grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, I’ll… I’ll look into it,” Oliver offered a hand. “If ye dinnae mind, I was talking to Percy here--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy ran a hand through his hair, thinking about where that conversation was going. It had been a while since he’d finished his last glass of wine, maybe his sensibility had returned. He should probably go talk to a Quidditch official or entertain a sponsor but… he’d much rather finish his conversation with Oliver.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A woman approached and attached herself to Roger Davies’ arm with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. “Roger, darling, could you order me another drink? You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent</span>
  </em>
  <span> taste,” she purred. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Penny. Let me introduce you to Oliver Wood. Mr. Wood, this is…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had hardly glanced over when the woman approached, but his heart leapt to his throat the second he heard her voice. Roger probably said her name, but Percy didn’t need to hear it, all the words transforming into a buzz in his ears. This couldn’t be happening, not now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had checked that guest list </span>
  <em>
    <span>five times, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he would have known if she was coming, he would have skipped the event and risked losing his job rather than showing up and having to see her. She wore a white badge with Roger’s name in the corner -- she’d been a guest. Shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was busy talking to the pair, shaking the women’s hand as Percy could do no more than stare at her. Her blonde hair was several inches shorter than the last time they’d met, and she apparently wore silver jewelry now. It was better for her skin tone, but she’d liked gold back then. Her blue eyes hadn’t changed, still dripping with pity and disappointment every time she glanced triumphantly at Percy. Penelope Clearwater hadn’t changed at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy Weasley,” Penelope flashed a smile at him that didn’t feel the slightest bit friendly. “It’s been so long -- have you been properly introduced to my fiancé, Roger?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your…” Percy’s mouth hung slightly open and he tightened his grip on the stem of the wine glass so much that it was a miracle it didn’t shatter.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy?” Roger furrowed his eyebrows, looking between them. “Oh, your old mate Percy? The Head Boy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy murmured. Penelope described him as the former </span>
  <em>
    <span>Head Boy </span>
  </em>
  <span>to her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Head Girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That was all he was? After… after everything, that was what she told people?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How have you been, Percy?” Penelope gave an inauthentic smile. “It’s been a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eighteen months,” Percy recited from memory. Fred and George would give him grief over it, but he didn’t have a say in what numbers his mind kept track of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, if it’s been that long, Penelope hasn’t told you the good news,” Roger grinned. Either Penelope hadn’t told him anything or he was a psychopath. “We got engaged -- no wonder you were so quiet, must have been caught off guard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations,” Oliver said awkwardly. Percy looked at Penelope’s hand, seeing the glittering stone on her ring finger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, our third anniversary is coming up,” Roger nodded. “Still planning the wedding--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brain, despite Percy’s wish it would explode, started doing the math. Third anniversary… three years. If it was June now, she and Roger had been together… that wasn’t a number that worked for Percy’s timeline. Eighteen months since he’d last seen her, dropping the ring off at his flat without ever looking back. Three years. Fred and George had been right. No, no, no--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re… interim department head?” Penelope asked innocently, still smiling. Roger, apparently oblivious, was still trying to talk to Oliver. The Quidditch player, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m… I’m Department Head,” Percy cleared his throat. His panic was beginning to turn into anger. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>she come here, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was going to be here and she had no right to come here and try to ruin </span>
  <em>
    <span>his event. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>interrupted </span>
  </em>
  <span>the conversation he’d been having with Oliver Wood, that was the worst offense of all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Youngest in centuries, right, Perce?” Oliver interrupted, elbowing Percy gently. “This bloke’s a big deal, more impressive than any of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surely, that can’t be true, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oliver Wood</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Roger laughed. Penelope cut him off from saying anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is Oliver a patient of yours, Percy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy finally got a look at the engagement ring, a big, shining star strapped to Penelope’s ring finger. It was much bigger than the one he’d given her, but he thought his grandmother’s ring was more tasteful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s my boyfriend,” Percy blurted out. Even with the wine heavy over his senses, Percy knew he’d fucked up. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bloody hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>was that? There was a new level of error he had just reached. Penelope was going to find out the truth and then she was going to walk away victorious and-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, going on a year now,” Oliver wrapped his arm around Percy, clinking their glasses together. His arm was heavy on Percy’s shoulders, holding them closely together as they both looked at Penelope. She was clearly thrown off, but quickly regained her composure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she pursed her lips. Roger the dimwit clunked his way back into the conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? I thought I read in Witch’s Weekly’s last profile--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie prefers to keep his personal life… </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Percy interrupted, placing his arm around Oliver’s waist and snuggling into his side. God, Oliver was so warm, and Percy never wanted to let him go. Percy owed him a thousand favors after this, he’d get drinks, he’d go to the twins’ parties, he’d streak through Diagon Alley.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Oliver hummed, tilting his head towards Percy’s shoulder. “Again, so nice to meet both of you -- I’ll look into that letter, Roger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Roger started bidding adieu when Penelope spoke up, her voice a bit lighter as though she was about to laugh with a familiarity she didn’t deserve. A familiarity that she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>forfeited</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “Percy, you never told me you were interested in men--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t seem relevant when I was in love with a woman,” Percy replied venomously. “Besides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Penelope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you never told me you were interested in Roger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well,” Penelope forced another smile. “Have a good night, both of you. Bye, Percival. Oliver.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy felt sick. He needed to leave -- no, he was in charge of this event, he needed to stay. He let go of Oliver’s waist immediately, throwing back the rest of his wine in a few rapid gulps before abandoning it on the counter. He couldn’t break down here. He was at work, she’d shown up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>work and made a fucking mess of everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy--” Oliver said quietly, looking around the room and reaching towards Percy’s shoulder. Percy shook his head, moving away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you….thank you for covering there, I owe you,” Percy mumbled. “I’m sorry--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Oliver smiled reassuringly. “Ye look upset, mate, I could get yer sister or the twins--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I’m fine.” Percy felt sick to his stomach. Where was a loo when you needed one? He stumbled away, trying to find an exit as Oliver followed closely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me walk ye out,” Oliver wrapped his arm back around Percy’s shoulders, and Percy suddenly became aware of how much he’d been shaking. “Aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver guided them into one of the side corridors of the Atrium until there was an empty storage room they could hide away in. Percy was grateful for the dim light, maybe Oliver couldn’t see the tears in his eyes or how Percy had probably sweat through his dress robes. He wanted to tear them off -- he wouldn’t of course. But it felt like he was on fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were seated on a spare desk that was covered in dust -- it had probably been in here for twenty years at least. The air quality was likely terrible -- Percy couldn’t tell since he was hardly able to breathe anyways. His throat felt like it had closed as he refused to sob. Oliver seemed to have taken notice, patting Percy’s back and whispering, “Come on, ye’ve got to breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Percy lied, taking a few shallow breaths. He buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. Oliver brushed some dust off of the table, sliding closer to Percy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer sure yer fine? I can get water, or food, or yer siblings--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s soft voice was so gentle, so kind in a way that Percy didn’t warrant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy shook his head. “God, I don’t want to see any of them right now, fuck. This is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>nightmare. Again, I’m so sorry -- you should go back to the party. Enjoy yourself, I’ll… I can’t head home, I don’t know, I’ll calm down and--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had enough for the night,” Oliver replied. “Do… do ye want to talk about it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy paused. He sighed, not wanting to put all the emotional labor that was fixing Percy Weasley on the poor man who’d been unlucky enough to be standing next to him when Penelope Clearwater walked up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Oliver nodded, patting Percy’s back again. “I won’t tell anyone, ye ken. Not yer siblings--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They know who she is,” Percy muttered. Apparently, he did need to talk about it. “Penelope and I were engaged for a time. Until she decided we were… no longer engaged,” Percy chose his words carefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eighteen months ago, to be exact,” Percy added, biting his lip and looking at the ground below them. Oliver didn’t say anything at first, still patting Percy’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a… a shit thing to happen, aye,” Oliver said. “Especially at something like this, big event and all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… didn’t know… that she was seeing someone else back then. I suppose… it’s silly to be upset about that now, after everything,” Percy mumbled, words hard to come by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver probably thought he was an idiot. To be fair, Percy probably was an idiot. He’d never believed the twins, but… but they’d been right all along. She’d cheated on him for over a year and he’d never been suspicious at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy opened his mouth to speak, but Oliver suddenly pulled him into a hug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make excuses for her, Perce.” Percy rested his head against Oliver’s shoulder. It was comfortable. “Ye’ll… ye’ll find someone better. We’re young, aren’t we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was nice to hear his name with Oliver in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Percy sniffled and mumbled a response. It wasn’t often that jokes came to his mind so quickly, and it would be a waste not to use this opportunity. “Not according to the Prophet, Mr. Wood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, yer a little shit aren’t ye,” Oliver gasped. “And I’m trying tae be nice and--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Percy laughed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “You set yourself up, I’m so sorry, really--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, I’m glad yer laughing. Ye have such a nice laugh,” Oliver pushed their shoulders together. Percy leaned into the touch, before his mind shot back to attention. He’d had too much, that was obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flustered, Percy tried to change the topic. “I… I should make sure I’m not needed, I’ll head home after that. Have a nice night--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, I can wait,” Oliver smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of Penelope seeing him alone and walking home had occurred to him, but that wasn’t Oliver’s responsibility to deal with. But… if Oliver was offering… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nodded, heading off into the gala crowd. Oliver gave him a small wave and disappeared with a few Quidditch players by the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As usual, work was easy to throw himself into. He didn’t have to think too deeply on anything when he was giving gracious thank yous to every single donor or handing his business card to every Quidditch player who had concerns about an injury. Fortunately, nobody wanted to have any in depth conversations with him. Percy could only act sober for so long. At one point one of his brothers pulled him aside--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, hello George. Are you heading out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mate, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>here--” George was angry as he spoke, his voice low and fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been handled,” Percy mumbled, waving his brother off. He didn’t want to talk about that anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy appreciated his brother’s concern -- they’d been the ones to help him get over Penelope in the first place. “I’m fine,” he slurred, his ability to act sober quickly fading. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tripped slightly as he stepped away and George caught him, laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you drunk?” George whispered gleefully. “Mate, if you want to get hammered to forget--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only had wine -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>I talked to her,” Percy giggled. “I’m going to head home, don’t worry about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to walk out with Angie and I? We’ve lost Fred, let us know if you see him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae,” Percy mumbled, shaking his head. Oh, he wanted to talk to Oliver. “Bye George, I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>work </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched George collect his girlfriend and head towards the exit. The Atrium was empty now besides a few stragglers. Almost all of the teams had left, probably continuing the celebrations elsewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver popped up next to Percy as if he had used apparation. “Ready to head out, Percy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy was already quite drunk. But if he hadn’t been, he could get drunk off the way Oliver said his name, with the slightest smile and a sparkle of his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re very kind, you know,” Percy smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce, it’s no trouble. What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriends</span>
  </em>
  <span> for?” Oliver looped his arm around Percy’s as soon as they rounded the corner, nestling close. God, Percy wished this was real.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe outside they could… discuss where this was going. Invite to another round of drinks, or maybe plan a meal… hell, Percy would bring Oliver back to his </span>
  <em>
    <span>confidential address </span>
  </em>
  <span>right now if the man agreed to it. They started an idle chat about their plans for the week when he caught sight of a blonde head of hair further down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart already racing, Percy tugged Oliver into one of the side corridors, out of view of most of the crowd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can she see us?” Oliver whispered, pressing into Percy’s side and bowing his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was rather unlikely that Penelope could see them. Percy wasn’t even certain that it had been Penelope -- loads of people had blonde hair. But now, his mind was racing. Penelope, surprisingly, wasn’t in any of the thoughts plowing through Percy’s remaining sensibilities. What if Oliver didn’t mean what he said about drinks? What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean it? Why did Oliver smell so good? Why was he so close, his lips barely parted? His brown eyes looking into Percy’s with such genuine concern and trust and… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was the wine he’d had, with hardly any dinner to go with it. Maybe it was the way Oliver had comforted him an hour before or the way Penelope had riled his temper. Maybe it was the temptation of having somebody so bloody attractive right next to him, their arms already intertwined. The next day, Percy considered all of these options when he considered what happened. But in the moment, his mind only wanted to do one thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands took hold of the lapels on Oliver’s dashing white jacket, the one he’d been looking at all night. Using his height advantage, Percy pushed Oliver back into the wall, locking him in place with a leg bent between Oliver’s. Landing a hand on the wall next to Oliver’s head, Percy bent down to kiss Oliver, their lips meeting roughly at first before Percy relaxed and dove in deeper. Oliver gave a small grunt of surprise and Percy pulled back almost immediately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Oliver murmured, tilting his head up to kiss Percy again, one arm wrapping around Percy’s waist and the other around his back. They stumbled to the side, making their way deeper into the corridor as they continued snogging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amidst the sensations — and there were many — of Oliver’s lips against his own and his tongue gently pressing against Percy’s lower lip there was Percy’s hand slowly loosening on the lapel to feel Oliver’s firm chest. He could feel a tug at the base of his hair as Oliver’s fingers began to comb through the heavily-moussed roots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, Percy could have done this forever. Snogging Oliver Wood was brilliant, he hadn’t snogged anyone since… it had been so long, but it felt natural. They hardly parted to breathe for the next several minutes, Percy leaning further in to make sure Oliver’s back stayed against the wall. He ventured to run a hand through Oliver’s hair — they both must have looked quite messed up by now — and Percy’s mouth moved to the side to rest on Oliver’s cheek and jawline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As suddenly as the kiss started, Percy stumbled backwards, his senses flooding back in. What was he doing? What was… Oliver has been so kind, pretending and promising he wouldn’t tease Percy too much over the matter. And now Percy had snogged him? Though, Oliver hadn’t stopped him and… his head hurt and his heart was beating out of his chest. Percy stared at Oliver, who was panting slightly, still pressed against the wall. His brown eyes were blinking rapidly. The front of his dress shirt was ruffled and his brown hair was no longer neatly parted. His soft, pink lips were somewhat reddened and Oliver’s fingers raised to touch them, looking at them afterwards before he looked back at Percy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Percy said, trying to fix his own robes and smooth down his hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to go.” Percy disappeared down the corridor and rushed to the Floo network where he could hop in and easily disappear. Without another glance back, Percy threw the powder down and reappeared in his living room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What. Was. That? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More importantly, why was Oliver Wood such a damn good kisser? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, Percy. Let us know your predictions and thoughts below! Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Reckoning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the chapter where we earn that mature rating! SPOILER if you don't want to read that content: the plot for this chapter ends once they're snogging. Please enjoy ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Percy didn’t sleep well. The cocktail of guilt, confusion, and arousal was the primary cause of his tossing and turning. Oliver’s face floated through his mind whether he was asleep or awake and Percy regretted running away. The barrage of knocks on his door at half past five in the morning certainly didn’t help. Percy’s alarm wasn’t set to go off for another 30 minutes -- and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>that extra 30 minutes. Rising from his bed and shoving his feet into slippers, Percy gave an anticipatory growl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The noise had woken up Hermes, who was rustling in his cage. Percy ignored the knocking a moment longer to lift the blanket and mutter an apology while tossing the bird a treat. The assault on his front door continued. Shuffling his feet across the living room, Percy peered through the security peephole. He groaned louder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening the door slightly and glaring out, Percy angrily whispered, “What are you two doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George, dressed in a gaudy purple suit, rammed his shoulder into the door. Fred, who was wearing an equally hideous suit, stepped in clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet. “Mate, anything to confess?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Percy crossed his arms angrily. “I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>say you could come in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins did not vacate the flat. Instead, they shoved an unwilling Percy towards the couch and trapped him there. George kicked his legs up to rest on Percy’s lap while Fred perched on the arm of the couch on Percy’s other side, ready to pounce. Percy kept his lips pressed tightly together. It was an ingrained habit from childhood. You waited for the twins to show their full hand, or else you’d fall for a bluff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mum told us to check today’s Prophet -- via </span>
  <em>
    <span>Howler</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fred grinned. “Tell Mum it wasn’t us, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That what wasn’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Page seven,” Fred winked, shoving the paper into Percy’s hands. He caught a glimpse of the front page and almost smiled -- the Gala was the subject of nearly every article. McKinnon would be ecstatic. “Again,” Fred repeated. “Nothing to do with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s heart froze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OLIVER WOOD’S SECRET AFFAIR</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A picture was below the headline. It was Percy and Oliver, sitting at the gala bar, practically on top of one another as they whispered and sipped from their drinks. He supposed the image could have been much worse. Rita Skeeter must have left early. Had Penelope or Roger said something? Had Skeeter been nearby? Bloody hell, they’d been in </span>
  <em>
    <span>public </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>anybody </span>
  </em>
  <span>could have overheard them or </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> Percy snogging one of the most famous Quidditch players in Great Britain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shall I read the article out loud?” Fred cleared his throat, leaning over Percy’s shoulder. “The Quidditch season may be over, but perennial bachelor Oliver Wood is still riding broomsticks --” Fred paused. “Vaguely homophobic, don’t you think so, Georgie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred kept reading, and Percy died a bit more with each word. Somehow, Skeeter got word that Oliver was allegedly in a long-term relationship with someone named Percy Weasley, a healer at St. Mungo’s. Fortunately, the article spun into a discussion of Oliver and Percy’s connection to Ginny and Harry, both darlings of the Prophet and far more notable than Percy. But the damage was done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” That was all Percy managed to get out. He scrambled to escape from the twins’ grasps, no idea where he was running to. Fred and George restrained him again, urging him to take a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce, we know it’s fake,” George insisted, laughing. “Wood gets a fake article like this every few months -- we only wanted to see your reaction.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a terrible liar, and Oliver told us his dating life was shite,” Fred added. “Though, that picture is </span>
  <em>
    <span>rather intimate</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Georgie did say you were sloshed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the twins mocked him relentlessly, Percy mumbled about the risk to his job, his reputation -- anything that came to mind. Hell, this could affect Oliver’s job! It was the top of the bloody gossip column! He was already panicked about potentially contacting Oliver after last night, but doing it when they were both unemployed because Percy couldn’t control himself after a few glasses of wine? Percy swore again as an owl appeared at the window. George went to get it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mum wants to know when Oliver’s coming over,” George snorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Percy blurt out again. “I told a bloody press photographer he was my boyfriend </span>
  <em>
    <span>in public </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rita Skeeter </span>
  </em>
  <span>overheard… and then Oliver said a year and shit, bugger, fuck--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful vocabulary,” George replied. “Why--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Penelope,” Percy looked at his brother, eyes pleading for the conversation to end. Both brothers quieted down, glancing at one another. Before Percy could say anymore, another knock came on the door. “Come in,” he shouted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An exhausted Bill, cradling a very much awake Louis, shuffled in, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “Mum said to ask--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Article’s fake,” Fred chimed in. “You brought the baby?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was up,” Bill shrugged. Louis tugged at his father’s shirt and babbled loudly. Normally, Percy would be thrilled to see his nephew. But had his mother sent a letter to everyone in the bloody family? Should he expect Charlie on dragonback outside the window any second now? Bill entered the kitchen, fumbling through the cabinets. “Mind if I have coffee?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nodded before collapsing into the armchair. He didn’t care that he was in his pyjamas and probably looked as exhausted as he felt. Muttering, he gave the simplest explanation. Penelope came over with her fiancé, Percy found out about the cheating and came up with a lie. “I never believed you but bloody hell, I-- I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You went into a jealous rage and conveniently had an attractive, single, gay Quidditch player standing next to you,” George finished for him. “That’s shit luck. Or great luck, depending on how you look at it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy gave a half-smile. At least his brothers supported him. The door flung open seconds later with a sibling who </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>did not. Ginny stormed in, looking around like a predator before her eyes caught on Percy. She looked ready to kill. Harry followed close behind, his expression not too different.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Ginny,” Percy said meekly, burrowing deeper into his seat. She must have talked to Oliver.  “Lovely morning we’re--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Percy,” Ginny huffed. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t believe</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ginny, he’s upset,” George interrupted, tilting his head at Percy. “He had a rough night--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ginny threw her hands up. “He’s upset? So upset that he had to stick his tongue down Oliver Wood’s throat and then fuck off without another word?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that wasn’t going to help Percy’s case. A flash of green light appeared in the living room and regrettably, it wasn’t the Killing Curse. Ron stepped out of the Floo in his pyjamas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Perce,” he yawned. “Mum sent a letter--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Down Oliver Wood’s throat?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” George shouted, turning on Percy. Percy slumped deeper in the armchair, closing his eyes as if he would disappear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the room could erupt into pandemonium, Bill took control. Without rising from the kitchen table and bouncing Louis on his knee, the eldest brother said firmly, “Percy, I think it’s time for an intervention. You need to explain what happened again -- from the beginning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else used the bloody front door, Ron,” Percy grumbled. A bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>intervention</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he needed at the crack of dawn the morning after he’d snogged Oliver Wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had never been in a courtroom, but he imagined it was something like this. He stood awkwardly in front of his siblings and Harry, stumbling through a story he didn’t very much want to share. Starting with the first hospital visit, through Oliver’s stay at the hospital, through the final match, to the Gala, Percy gave as little detail as possible. Unfortunately, Percy was a terrible liar. One of the jurors (judges? executioners?) would interrupt and ask for more information or call him out on a contradiction. At least Charlie was halfway across the world -- it would be much easier to lie in a letter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And yes, I… I…  kissed him,” Percy finished lamely. “And then I came home. And then you lot showed up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy scanned for a reaction. Ginny and Harry still looked ready to commit a felony. Ron was smirking, Fred and George looked surprised but amused, and Bill looked disappointed. Only Louis seemed unbothered by the whole affair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hard not to snog Wood, honestly,” George spoke first. “You know, Freddie and I discussed setting you two up, and now--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t going to-- I don’t know,” Percy shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “I need to go to work, I haven’t showered--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” Bill interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill, I don’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk </span>
  </em>
  <span>about this,” Percy whined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to talk to us,” Bill handed Louis off to Ginny so that he could cross his arms.  “But you need to talk to him. Otherwise you’ll look like a git.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy promised that he would talk to Oliver Wood. Apparently, his word wasn’t good enough and Percy found himself writing a letter at his desk, six heads -- seven, counting Louis -- peering over his shoulder. He wanted to see Oliver, but… he had no idea what to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To Oliver Wood,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is Hermes. He shouldn’t nip for long, give him whatever you have and he’ll stop. Apologies for leaving so abruptly last night. I’ll be at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, around 5 p.m. I’d like to talk to you, but I understand if you’d rather not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Percy Weasley</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the group gave their approval, he rose, retrieving Hermes from his cage and tying the letter on. As Percy opened the window, Fred finally changed the topic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mate, you need to get a new bird, Hermes is as bad as Errol used to be--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t listen to them,” Percy muttered to his owl. He lifted Hermes up to the window and watched anxiously as the bird dove out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beyond a few poorly-hidden smirks or raised eyebrows at work, nobody seemed to care that the Head of Artefact Accidents had been featured in the Daily Prophet’s gossip column. The only person to broach the subject was Healer Black, who received a lengthy and stammering reply that it was a misunderstanding and there was nothing untoward at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regulus sipped from his black coffee. “Of course there’s nothing untoward. Wasn’t Mr. Wood treated by Healer Matthews? She went on about it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>days</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the break room.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah… yes,” Percy nodded. Regulus gave a rare smile leaving the room, and Percy could have sworn he winked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was impossible to focus all day. 5 p.m. creeped closer and closer and he still had no idea what he was going to say to Oliver. Admit his crush? Admit that he wanted to be more than friends? He needed to apologize, of course. But then what? Ask him on a date? Snog him like there was no tomorrow? Percy knew which one he wanted -- or at least, </span>
  <em>
    <span>part </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him wanted -- but each time he practiced the conversation in his head, his nerves got the best of him. Finally, it was time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a long walk to the pub from St. Mungo’s and Percy strode quickly down the London streets with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets. It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon -- not too many people were out and about. Under his breath, Percy whispered practice apologies. Each one grew more and more desperate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need him to forgive me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy realized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t end it like this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was five minutes to the designated meeting time when Percy entered and looked for an empty booth. There were plenty, but one in the corner was occupied by a man in a black tee-shirt and jeans. Percy bit his lip, watching how Oliver tapped his fingers on the table and stared out a nearby window. Taking a deep breath, Percy approached. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello Oliver,” Percy said softly. “May I sit down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver turned and his brown eyes bore into Percy’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy’s heart fluttered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he also looks like he’s going to kill me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver gave a brief, unemotional nod. Percy slid into the other side of the booth crossing his hands on his lap. His heart was beating faster being this close to Oliver again. Maybe Oliver had drank too much, he might not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- no, he was clearly aware they’d kissed. And that Percy had run away immediately following their snogging session.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… you got my letter?” Percy kicked himself. That’s obvious, you idiot. “Sorry, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer bird is quite old,” Oliver replied, tiredly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have the heart to retire him,” Percy chuckled, giving a slight shrug. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, don’t change the topic, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he disciplined himself. “Oliver, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off last night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy felt a bit overdressed as he looked at Oliver more closely. The black tee-shirt was old, a faded logo for Quality Quidditch Supplies on the front. His hair was messy -- Percy wanted to run his hands through it, but that was clearly not appropriate given the purpose of the meeting. Percy probably looked the part of a prat -- still in his navy slacks and gray waistcoat from work, his hair neatly parted. Ever the professional, he supposed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver answered. Percy waited for more, but Oliver only glanced up. He looked exhausted -- probably Percy’s fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy continued, cheeks burning with shame. “Oliver… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I regretted it immediately,” Percy said, speaking honestly for the first time in ages. “And I’m ashamed of my behavior -- it was abhorrent and I practically attacked you. I didn’t assume anything, you’d done me a favor, helping with… umm… well, you know. But I shouldn’t have done it and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>shouldn’t have run away. I violated you and--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver cut him off, holding up a hand. He was frowning slightly. Percy prepared himself for the rejection, the confirmation of ‘why yes, Percy Weasley, you’re a terrible kisser and you should go to Azkaban for being a shitty love interest.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver sighed, slowly looking up to meet Percy’s eyes. With his chin tilted like that, Percy could see a few orange specks amidst the brown. “I forgive ye. Alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy’s heart leapt. It soared. He hadn’t buggered everything, this could be salvaged. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy </span>
  </em>
  <span>had to salvage it, it was on his side now. Drinks, that’s what he’d offered the first time, he could do it now. Maybe this could be a date -- their </span>
  <em>
    <span>first date! </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was exciting, Percy decided. This was a moment to celebrate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Percy waved, grinning to the barmaid. His excitement apparently could not be maintained. “I told you I would buy you a drink,” he said to Oliver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver wasn’t smiling, but Percy took it as a mission. This was a date, as far as Percy was concerned, a second (third? fourth?) chance. Oliver was being far too generous in giving him so many chances. Percy genuinely couldn’t believe how lucky he was. After the drinks were ordered, a silence fell at the table as Percy tried to think of his first question. He’d never been much good at first dates. Oliver cleared his throat as their beverages arrived.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, can ye -- can ye explain what happened? I dinnae mind that… that ye kissed me. I dinnae mind the flirting. I’ve been coming onto ye for -- two months?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’ve been thick for two months too long</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy noted wryly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy took his wine, swirling it in the glass as he tried to think of an answer. He had explained to his siblings the whole encounter with Penelope (among other things) that morning. But they’d been there when Penelope broke it off, they’d seen the aftermath. Did Oliver need to know all of that? Percy sipped and thought a bit more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I sort of explained what happened with Penelope,” Percy acknowledged, remembering their drunken conversation from the night before. “We dated in school, broke up -- mutually. Err… I dated a few other people.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wondered if he should mention his surprising awakening when all of those people ended up being blokes, but decided against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But then Penelope again. We got engaged after a few years. I guess I was so distracted by the thought of being married that I didn’t realize what was happening. I learned last night that well -- she did actually cheat on me. For at least a year, maybe… maybe more? I let my emotions get the best of me. You paid the consequence, I suppose,” Percy sighed, dropping the grin. Maybe this wasn’t a date quite yet.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s have our drink then. We deserve it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A DATE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had never been the biggest fan of the Leaky Cauldron. The food wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>healthy </span>
  </em>
  <span>by any standards. But he was grateful for the atmosphere it provided. The apology drink turned into a riveting conversation as they revisited several of the topics from the night before and kept going. Percy tried to be an open book, and answered any question that came his way. Within reason of course-- Percy could not confirm whether or not Marcus Flint’s missed game earlier that season was a result of an injury from playing Exploding Snap (it was, but Percy still couldn’t confirm it). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conscious of how alcohol might have sullied his intentions the night before, Percy drank his glass as slowly as possible. Oliver ordered a second drink when Percy wasn’t even halfway through his wine -- he didn’t want Oliver to think he was only attracted to him under the influence. Based on how Percy’s mind wandered during their conversation -- to Oliver’s tight black shirt, to the firmness of his jaw, to his tenderness in his eyes -- he could confirm that it wasn’t an effect of liquor. Oliver Wood was simply a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>attractive man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation continued for ages. Waving his arms during a re-enactment of an argument he’d had with a patient, Percy accidentally knocked his half-empty glass across the table, spilling red wine all over Oliver’s jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Percy blushed, grabbing napkins and wiping down the table. Would he ever stop apologizing to this man? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nae, don’t worry, love,” Oliver shrugged, waving his wand and turning back to conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Percy’s heart melted. He only wanted Oliver to call him that. Percy was such a silly name when endearments like </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> existed. This date was going magnificently.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At some point, they left the Leaky Cauldron. One or the other had suggested a walk, perhaps dinner -- Percy couldn’t remember. But as they went down the street, laughing at one another’s stories, Percy couldn’t help but glance down. What if he grabbed Oliver’s hand? Would that be too forward?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You snogged him last night, holding hands is hardly forward</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets instead. He needed to let Oliver make the first move. If Oliver wanted to hold his hand, Percy would count himself the luckiest man in the world. But Percy needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>earn </span>
  </em>
  <span>that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Oliver told a marvelous story about his elder sister teaching him to ride a bike -- “Muggles are wrong, ye </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget.” -- a sudden downpour overtook them. It was a cold rain, soaking Percy to the bone. His eyes darted around looking for shelter, but there was none to be found. How far had they wandered? A few Muggles hurried about, that meant apparating was out of the question, as were any charms to repel rain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to get soaked,” Percy said, feeling that another apology might be necessary. How many times would he lead Oliver Wood into disappointment and peril?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Quidditch player laughed. “We’ll have tae find somewhere to go--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My flat’s not far from here,” Percy blurted out. It was about a half mile, but that wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>far. And Oliver said he ran five miles every morning, surely he wouldn’t notice the slight exaggeration. “Follow me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver brushed back his wet hair and nodded. Percy tried to focus on the route home and not the water droplets running down the sides of Oliver’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not confidential anymore?” He teased. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why on earth had he ever kept his address secret from Oliver Wood?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy ran through the streets, occasionally glancing back to make sure Oliver was still following him. They made it all the way back, and Percy waved his wand to dry the white carpet underneath their feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was standing in the living room, looking around the flat and Percy gave a brief apology for the state of the place. After all, he’d hosted seven people unexpectedly that morning. Walking into the kitchen, Percy took off his waist coat and wrung it over the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like a change of clothes, Ollie? I know drying charms never quite do the trick,” Percy shouted. He took off his glasses to dry them with -- nope, the handkerchief was soaked. He had another in his bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rounding the corner, Percy found Oliver still standing in the living room. He’d removed his shoes, but the rest of him was still dripping wet. “Yes, thank ye,” he nodded. “I might -- I might not be yer size --”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a few larger shirts,” Percy replied. He had a habit of gathering hand-me-downs, even years after moving out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his bedroom, Percy quickly changed into a dry outfit, hanging the wet clothes up to dry. He found a handkerchief and dried off his glasses, shoving them back onto his face. Spare clothes… spare clothes… yes, those might fit Oliver. He was pretty sure they were Charlie’s at one point, and the men were about the same build.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try this,” Percy returned to the living room, tossing sweatpants and a tee shirt over to Oliver. “You can change in--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver didn’t wait for an offer of the bathroom or Percy’s bedroom, peeling off the wet black tee-shirt and resting it on a chair. Percy’s eyes widened. He couldn’t stare at Oliver’s exposed chest, they were on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>first date</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Oliver hadn’t meant to get stuck in the rain. Percy shifted uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should go out again,” Percy rambled, trying desperately to look away. “This was quite nice, I’ve enjoyed myself. This weekend, drinks. I can come to you, you don’t live in London, right? Not that you’d need to host, but if you wanted to save the commute -- how much do I owe you for Floo Powder? You were very kind to come regardless, I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have something tae say,” Oliver interrupted. Percy looked back at him. He hadn’t changed </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He was still standing there in wet jeans -- which were </span>
  <em>
    <span>clinging </span>
  </em>
  <span>to his firm thighs -- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no shirt</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How on earth could Percy focus under these conditions?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Percy blinked, forcing his eyes to look directly into Oliver’s. “Yes? Go ahead--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy,” Oliver sighed, dropping the dry clothes onto a nearby seat. Percy’s shoulders dropped. Was he finally going to say what Percy had been afraid of all night? That it wasn’t working, that Percy had fucked up too much? That this couldn’t be salvaged? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I -- I can’t be led on,” Oliver confessed.  “I spent thirteen years of my life terrified of being gay. When I finally had the balls to ask blokes out, I was too known, too busy, too focused on Quidditch. I--” Oliver raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t be led on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nodded. He hadn’t dealt with the fame bit, but the liking blokes part wasn’t exactly easy. Oliver kept speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If ye aren’t interested in this in… in love, I don’t know if I can just be yer friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Friend? When had Percy ever suggested -- oh, yes, Percy might have wanted friendship at some point. But now, that was the last thing he wanted. Percy wasn’t sure he could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>just friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Oliver Wood. The man was too charming, too intelligent, too dashing, too perfect to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>just friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> with. Percy took a step closer, but Oliver didn’t stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer-- yer the closest thing I’ve had tae-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>that kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Oliver groaned, brushing his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t friendly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Correct, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Percy thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t because of yer ex-fiancée,” Oliver added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Correct, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Percy thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye apologized, okay? But, why did ye </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I can’t read yer mind. Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why had Percy kissed Oliver? He did fancy Oliver. He fancied Oliver </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite a bit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Should he kiss him again? Should he say--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t go out for a few drinks. I don’t really drink,” Oliver shut his eyes, rubbing his face. “Tell me what this is. Every bloke that’s interested in me only goes out with me for Puddlemere tickets or for a shag. Yer different. I know yer different. I need ye to be different--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy took a few more steps forward, only an arm’s distance from Oliver. Oliver opened his eyes and immediately looked down, as though he were only just now aware that Percy was still in the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve said it enough times that I’m not sure you’ll believe me,” Percy said softly. “But I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dinnae mean to yell at ye--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should yell at me,” Percy replied. “I haven’t been honest with you -- with anyone, really, including myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another step. Could he kiss him now? Words couldn’t communicate this -- no, he wasn’t a teenager. He needed to use his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you’d come today, Ollie, but I’m so happy you came on a date, I want to do this properly. I’ll make time, it’s worth it--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A date?” Oliver opened his mouth as if he had to say more, but closed it. Percy nodded, rubbing his hands together as he rocked foot to foot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a date, long overdue -- no fault of yours of course, all mine there,” Percy chuckled. “I don’t want tickets or--” Percy wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to a shag, but he certainly wanted more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to be different,” Percy tried again. “If you’ll let me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence hung between them. Only a few steps remained between them and Percy wished Oliver was wearing a shirt. It made him feel overdressed for the second time that night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened to being a professional?” Oliver murmured, closing the space by another step. Percy straightened up, looking down at Oliver by a few inches. The height difference might distract Oliver from how nervous Percy was getting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I--” Percy searched for an answer, an excuse. “I’m not sure. You… you make being a professional very difficult, Ollie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, Oliver was so close. Percy’s brain wasn’t working anymore. Oliver’s chest -- still bare, the little voice in the back of his head noted with glee -- was moving up and down more rapidly, and Oliver grabbed Percy’s hand. Percy squeezed it in return, hoping he could… he didn’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver closed the space, his face inches below Percy’s. Percy angled his head down, staring at Oliver blankly. He had a slight shadow of scruff across his cheeks, like he’d forgotten to shave that day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss ye?” Oliver whispered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Percy mumbled. Had Oliver asked that? What was happening? What did this mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand rested on Percy’s waist. Oliver kept staring at him, his thumb rubbing circles into Perc’s jumper. Several seconds passed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Percy whispered. Why was Oliver… </span>
  <em>
    <span>staring </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him? Something must have been wrong, Oliver must have changed his mind. Percy closed his eyes. Maybe he was dreaming. “Are you going to kiss me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver didn’t reply -- not with words, anyways. Percy felt Oliver’s soft lips press against his own and every muscle in his body suddenly relaxed. He hadn’t known how much tension he was carrying as his hand broke away from Oliver’s to move up and cradle his cheek. Percy’s other hand moved up to Oliver’s side, the skin cool and wet underneath him. It drifted to Oliver’s lower back, rubbing against it gently as he brought their bodies even closer together. Oliver started mumbling something and Percy pulled away immediately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry--” Percy whispered, his hand still rubbing smooth circles on Oliver’s lower back. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, surprised to find that Oliver’s face was only inches away. “I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry. We can stop.” Oliver’s hands had roamed quite a bit, and the man glanced down at the one which was resting against Percy’s chest. Percy looked down as well, seeing how the hand remained completely still regardless of what its owner was saying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within the time it took for Oliver to take a breath, they were kissing again. Percy wasn’t sure who had leaned forwards, probably both of them. It was one kiss, then another, a few infinite yet not-long-enough moments. Oliver’s hand twisted into Percy’s hair, gripping it as the kiss deepened and they risked toppling over. Percy’s hand dropped to run across the taut muscles of Oliver’s back -- thank Merlin he’d never put on the other shirt -- and Percy let out a soft moan as Oliver tugged at his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver responded with more aggressive snogging, his tongue dragging across Percy’s lower lip before his mouth moved to pepper Percy’s jawline and neck. Percy’s hair must have been a mess -- and he decided Oliver’s had gone untouched for too long. He ran a hand through the brown locks, gently curling them with his fingers. Percy let his lips fall where they could, relieved when Oliver returned to his mouth. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>relieved when Oliver pulled away again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me to stop,” Oliver looked up at Percy, his eyes half-lidded with lust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy didn’t deserve Oliver’s affection, his attention, his forgiveness. But he had it. God, he had it. And he didn’t want to give it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I don’t want you to stop, Ollie?” Percy answered. Honesty felt good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were kissing again, Oliver’s hands slipping under Percy’s jumper. They were cold, dancing across the skin and playfully pulling Percy even closer to Oliver. The serotonin flooded his brain, and blood flooded to one place -- if Percy’s mind had ever been in control, it certainly wasn’t anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a bedroom,” he managed to get out, realizing his leg had stepped outside of Oliver’s, pressing their crotches together. Could Oliver tell he was half-hard already? “Might be… more comfortable.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Oliver nodded. Percy licked his bottom lip, looking at Oliver’s chest again. Percy’s hands pressed against Oliver’s shoulders, gently moving downwards as he marveled at the athlete. His skin was warm to touch, the muscles sculpted like a Greek statue -- it was soft in places, where his hips bent or at the base of his stomach, and Percy pressed his thumbs in, watching the small indents form. Percy glanced at Oliver’s crotch--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, ye’ve seen it already,” Oliver choked out in a laugh. He shifted under Percy and brought his knee against the joint of Percy’s leg. Percy covered his mouth as he groaned. It had been a while. “My turn tae see--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Percy chuckled, removing his hands so he could tug off the clean jumper and toss it to the ground. He’d get it in the morning. Oliver dipped his hands down to seize Percy’s waistband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s… which bedroom?” Oliver murmured into Percy’s neck in between kisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Left door,” Percy took a few steps in that direction, but Oliver stopped him and pressed him against the wall to nip and suck at his throat. Percy groaned loudly, tilting his head back to allow more access. Percy ran his hands down Oliver’s spine as though counting the vertebrae. There were thirty-three, Percy thought as he shouldered the door open, bringing Oliver with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver let go, falling back onto the bed, propped up on his elbows with a grin splayed across his face. Percy laughed, looking at the magnificence in front of him. The unbuckled pants, the bare chest, the messy hair -- Percy had done that. His bed had never looked so bloody inviting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or did ye--” Oliver hesitated, starting to sit up. Percy shook his head, climbing on top of Oliver and pushing him further up on the bed. He knew exactly what he wanted, and the way Oliver snogged him in return, they had an understanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver pressed his head against the mattress, peering up at Percy and raising an index finger to count each freckle, starting on the edge of Percy’s collarbone. He was already losing count and Percy bent down to kiss his forehead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll lose count, Ollie,” Percy whispered, brushing Oliver’s hair back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver laughed, arching his hips up so their lower halves rubbed together. Percy bit his lip, but a soft moan came out -- twenty months was a long time, damn it. At least Penelope fucking Clearwater wouldn’t be his last shag if he died tomorrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come up with a system.” Oliver’s rough hands ran down Percy’s back and pulled him downwards so their chests pressed together, their faces only inches apart. The distance was cut immediately, soft kisses and rubbing of noses and intense stares into the other’s eyes as their hands roamed up and down one another’s bodies. While Oliver’s hands favored Percy’s hair, Percy’s hands moved slowly downwards until they reached the edge of Oliver’s jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Percy mumbled, his own cock throbbing. Fuck, it had been a long time. He needed to speed this up, as much as he wanted it to last forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, love,” Oliver nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Love,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Percy smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slipped his hand into and under his boxers, feeling the smooth skin of Oliver’s thigh. A slight shift inwards and he found the erection. Oliver’s head fell back in a groan and Percy gently rubbed the shaft as he worked to tug Oliver’s pants down. The wet jeans put up some resistance, but Percy was determined. Oliver wasn’t out for the count, angling himself upwards to nip at Percy’s collarbone and eliciting deep moans, noises that Percy would have been humiliated by if anybody but Oliver could hear them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver had one hand on Percy’s belt, loosening it fervently. Percy focused on his own left hand, dragging his thumb over the tip and picturing a diagram of a penis in his mind. He hadn’t been with a man in a while, he wanted to do this right. Oliver’s moan was a signal he was on the right track. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce,” Oliver tensed up beneath him, losing his grip on Percy’s pants as he thrust his crotch upwards. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy leaned down, his fingers still dancing lightly on Oliver’s cock. Whispering into Oliver’s ear, Percy felt the need to ask again, maybe Oliver wanted him to leave. “Do you want me to--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me?” Oliver captured his lips in a kiss, and Percy began moving his hand slowly up and down, earning a few whimpers from his date. “I want ye to fuck me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy had never wanted to do anything more than that, and suddenly, everything washed away. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be declaring his eternal love before the night was out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take off your pants, Ollie,” Percy ordered, pulling his hand out. Oliver struggled to sit up, blinking at Percy with a small grin on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this real?” He chuckled, kissing Percy’s bare chest. “Tell me it’s real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wondered if Oliver had dreams about this, like Percy had. He wondered if they could do some of the things he’d dreamed about… Percy ran a hand through Oliver’s hair and kissed his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s real, love,” Percy replied, a soft laugh passing between them. A kiss to Oliver’s lips was followed by his jaw and then Oliver’s neck. This was heaven, Percy decided. And the gate to heaven was Oliver’s stupid pants which were still on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy kept tugging, managing to get the jeans down to Oliver’s knees. Oliver seemed to gain awareness, wriggling out of his pants and revealing tented boxers. Those would have to go, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin,” Percy whispered, pushing Oliver harshly back. The Keeper gasped beneath him, his hands firmly grasping Percy’s waist. The way he held it, Percy worried there would be bruises in the morning. No… not worried. Hoped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s breath hitched again, “Yer glasses--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy removed his glasses, having to climb off Oliver to put them on the bed stand. Oliver sat up behind him, helping Percy remove his own pants as they kissed again. Percy shuddered as Oliver’s hand playfully brushed against his erection, sending a jolt through his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scrambled to tug open the bedside drawer, relieved when he found lube and a few condoms. “Sexual safety,” Percy bit his lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, yer bonnie,” Oliver murmured, tracing Percy’s thin arms. “Magnificent, perfect, beautiful--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy tried not to scoff as his eyes slowly dragged up and down Oliver’s perfect body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Percy replied. He lowered a hand to Oliver’s lap, brushing against his cock and smiling as Oliver whined. “You like that Ollie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Perce,” Oliver kissed him. It was such a wet kiss, Percy pushed his own mouth open and dipped a tongue out to trace Oliver’s bottom lip. “I like everything yer doing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s voice was getting deeper and his hands shifted from Percy’s waist to trail the rest of his body. His thumb rubbed against one of Percy’s nipples, then a hand was underneath his boxers cupping Percy’s arse, then at the base of his hair tugging at it. His lips followed suit, bruising Percy’s chest in a way that he knew he couldn’t go swimming in front of other people for a few weeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy focused on Oliver’s neck, sucking at the same spot with a series of deeper and deeper nips until Oliver was groaning and scratching at Percy’s back. Then his hands moved back to Percy’s boxers--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s hand was around Percy’s cock and it was like every star in the universe had exploded in Percy’s chest. The rough, deliberate fingers cradled his cock, rubbing slightly at the skin as Percy mewed and pulled his face away from Oliver’s neck. Merlin’s beard, he couldn’t come this quickly, he wasn’t a teenager, he was a full-grown man. But Percy gasped for air as the sensation rippled through his body, the heat building--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy looked at Oliver. His eyes were almost closed, heavy with the lust and sex that filled the space between them. Gripping the bed sheet, Percy tried not to lose all control as Oliver moved his hand gradually. He dropped his head over Oliver’s shoulder, gasping, moaning, trying to find a word to say-- he couldn’t remember any. Fuck, this felt amazing. Why had Percy waited so long to shag someone? At the same time, he was so glad he’d waited for Oliver… that sensible voice tried to ruin it, reminding him there were consequences for actions but Percy threw it in the corner, he locked it away in a cage and put a silencing charm on it. This was bliss. This was what Percy wanted, it was what he needed. It was Oliver Wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye like that?” Oliver whispered, stroking a bit more roughly and increasing his speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy knew he couldn’t last, not with the way Oliver was moving his hand and he whimpered, “B-Be careful. I don’t want to finish yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nearly collapsed saying it, but Oliver pulled his hand out after a final brush of his thumb against the tip of Percy’s cock. Closing his eyes, Percy sighed in relief before he felt Oliver tug at his boxers and pull them down enough so his erection sprung out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes open, then. Percy looked down at himself, his erection sticking up in the space between him. He looked at Oliver, who was grinning, his chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat. How long had they been in the bedroom? What was it he’d said earlier? Something about turns? Percy blinked once and grabbed the waistband of Oliver’s boxers, tugging them out of the way. Percy gasped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure, he’d seen cocks before. Technically, Oliver’s cock was like any other penis. Like a diagram in a textbook. An undeniable part of Oliver’s anatomy that simply existed. Now… it was something Percy could look at. Something he could touch -- something he had touched. A cock that existed to be teased, tugged, licked, jacked off-- so many things that Percy wanted to do for Oliver. That was how Percy could hear the throaty moans, the raspy breaths, the whines of his partner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy lifted his chin and looked at Olive again, blue eyes meeting brown. He wanted to kiss him, and did so. Oliver fell backwards again, his head landing on the pillows as Percy put a hand on either side to keep their chests slightly apart. Oliver dragged his nails down Percy’s back, and Percy’s hips rocked forward, brushing their erections together in sweet agony. When Oliver’s hand went back to Percy’s hair, he took the opportunity to move downwards, sucking and biting Oliver’s neck, torso, waistline…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found his target, the stiff cock waiting for attention. Percy glanced up at Oliver, who was watching with his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes dilated. Smiling briefly, Percy opened his mouth and tentatively kissed the tip before enveloping a few salty inches in his mouth. It was warm, that’s what he expected. But he didn’t expect Oliver’s back to immediately arch as the man moaned loudly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce, fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy smiled, Oliver’s cock still in his mouth. He slowly pulled his mouth away, smacking his lips together. Resting on his forearms, Percy smirked up at Oliver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are ‘Perce’ and ‘Fuck’ the only two words you remember, Ollie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shook his head slightly, chuckling. “Aye, at the moment.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s eyes fluttered and he clutched the pillow under his head as Percy licked the length again, placing a small kiss-- the light in the room flickered and Percy looked up laughing. Oliver, his face slightly flushed, laughed too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That hasn’t happened to me in a while--” Oliver said. Percy, eager to see how much accidental magic he could elicit from Oliver, kissed his cock again. “I--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy sucked the tip, pausing between dips of his head. Teasing Oliver was almost as fun as sucking his cock. Almost. Oliver writhed every time Percy moved, he was close. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Accidental magic, Ollie-- I arouse you this much?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me,” Oliver groaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy nodded, he didn’t want either of them to finish before… before Percy could fall asleep next to Oliver knowing they’d had a magnificent and excellent shag. He grabbed the lube, scrambling to open the bottle and accidentally squeezing it too aggressively, coating several fingers. Oliver’s legs broke apart easily, and he bent his knees to arch his back and allow Percy access. Percy’s other hand -- the one not covered in lube -- stroked Oliver’s lower stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re perfect, Ollie,” Percy whispered, lowering his lubed hand to Oliver’s anus, gently rubbing its perimeter. Oliver groaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy hesitated, stopping his hand. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Oliver nodded, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy slid a finger in, curling it up in the tight, warm space. Oliver’s mouth opened in a loud moan as Percy delved deeper, stroking the internal walls. Percy’s own cock was throbbing, and it bumped against Oliver’s leg--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights flickered again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was me,” Percy admitted, blushing. He wasn’t sure if it counted as blushing when his entire upper body must have been pink by now. Percy focused, trying to insert a second finger and dig around for Oliver’s prostate. Oliver yelped, his face contorting in a mixture of pleasure and pain.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like that?” Percy leaned over him to kiss next to his ear, watching gleefully as Oliver’s erection twitched. That was his answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy moved both fingers in and out, in and out. He had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood once Oliver’s hands found Percy’s hair and tugged it in parallel motion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy!” Oliver shouted, bucking his hips off of the bed. Fuck, nobody had ever said his name like that. He never wanted to go back to being Healer Weasley, or Percival, or any of it. He never wanted anybody to call him that besides Oliver Wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Ollie,” Percy murmured, grabbing the lube again and coating his fingers. A third finger was tight, but gradually made the space it needed. Penetrating him at a slow, methodical pace, Percy watched Oliver writhe under him, hands alternating between gripping Percy’s hair and the bedsheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wee faster, please,” Oliver begged, his mouth finding Percy’s shoulder and nipping it as if it would help him hang on a bit longer. Oliver clearly didn’t want to finish first based on the way one of his hands found Percy’s cock and rubbed it fervently -- bloody hell, his competition had no end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Ollie, you’re amazing,” Percy whispered. “You’re… you’re--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer so handsome and intelligent and fuck-- ye’ve got magnificent fingers,” Oliver murmured. “Fucking magical fingers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You smell so good,” Percy buried his face into Oliver’s shoulder and smiled. He should ask where he got the cologne, it was all he wanted to smell. His fingers hit Oliver’s prostate again and he tried to keep moving slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, fuck me,” Oliver begged. “Please, Percy, please--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy winced as he pulled away, adding more lube to his hand as he pushed the fourth finger in. Oliver laughed, the most gorgeous sound in existence. Percy giggled, rubbing his thumb around Oliver’s anus as his fingers curled against the walls of his canal. Oliver laughed harder, his voice cracking until it was almost soundless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to kiss you,” Percy mumbled, as though he needed to warn Oliver. It was a rather silly warning when he already had four fingers thrusting into Oliver’s arse, but he said it nonetheless before he bent down and captured Oliver’s lips in another kiss like it held the nectar of life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy lost all sense of time when Oliver tilted his head back, his eyes still closed. “Wanna finish?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Oliver kissed his cheeks, his nose, and any other part of his face that he could reach, Percy tried to gain awareness again, pulling his fingers out and resting the hand on Oliver’s thigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really want to finish,” Percy waited for Oliver’s beautiful eyes to look back at him. “I want to fuck you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ollie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then do it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy found the condom, undoing the wrapper and rolling it onto his very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span>  sensitive cock. He couldn’t believe this was happening and looked over at Oliver to make sure he wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Oliver was propped up on his elbows, admiring Percy’s cock -- Oliver Wood, admiring his--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you enjoying your view, Ollie?” Percy cracked a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver hummed, his smile glowing. He placed a hand on Percy’s knee, trying to pull him back over he widened his legs to make space. “Yer beautiful, Perce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy climbed on top of him and kissed the space between his temple and ear. In as husky a voice as he could summon, Percy whispered, “Let’s finish together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slow and precise was what Percy was good at. He paused as the tip entered Oliver’s arse, waiting for a response. Oliver relaxed, and Percy kept pushing until he was fully inside, the warmth of Oliver encompassing his tender and desperate cock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright?” Percy asked, staying still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” Oliver moaned, his hand on his own cock moving deliberately up and down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching Oliver’s face -- oh, that face -- Percy began thrusting in time with Oliver’s hand, admiring the way Oliver’s mouth opened in loud huffs and groans. Percy was sure his face was doing the same, but it didn’t look half-so magical. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy kept thrusting, his hips ramming into Oliver’s body. Oliver gasped. Percy grinned. He’d found his target again. Thrusting a few more times, Percy refound the steady rhythm and bent over to kiss Oliver’s cheek. The Keeper turned his head to reach Percy’s mouth, their tongues meeting and messily going in and around the other’s mouths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights in the room kept flickering and soon, it was dark. The only electricity left in the room was the energy bursting in both of their chests and… Percy forced himself to speed up as his cock begged him for release. Oliver’s endless series of quick and rapid moans meant that he had to be close, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m close, Ollie,” Percy shut his eyes, going as quickly as his cock wanted him to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye can cum,” Oliver answered. That was all he had to say and Percy let out a guttural moan, his cock jerking in Oliver’s arse, the cum rushing out of him. He was shocked that he didn’t collapse immediately as the muscles in his body lost tension and his head lolled side to side. The stars disappeared from his vision, and he saw Oliver, whimpering and rubbing the tip of his cock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was his job, Percy decided. He pulled out, sighing as he removed the condom and tossed it into the trash. Oliver’s eyes were shut as Percy swatted his hand away and placed his own on Oliver’s cock, quickly moving up and down. Oliver’s body shook, his mouth widening in anticipation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon Ollie,” Percy gripped Oliver’s thigh with his free hand, putting as much vigor into his movements as possible. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ollie, fuck--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver finished, the white stream bursting forth and landing on his stomach in a mess. The man’s body was shaking -- Percy had done that -- and he gasped for air like a fish out of water, clenching the bed sheets as he orgasmed. Percy smiled, releasing Oliver and laying down on the bed, trying to slow his breath. He heard Oliver breathe deeply, doing the same. It was silent -- a good silence, Percy decided -- as they lay in the dark next to one another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perce?” Oliver, a wand in his hand, curled up around Percy’s side, wrapping a leg over Percy’s waist. “That was amazing,” he purred.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Percy whispered back, turning his head to look at Oliver. Even in the dark, he could see those eyes. Percy reached up a hand to caress Oliver’s cheek. “That was perfect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so bloody tired, but he wanted to stay up the rest of the night staring at Oliver. His lover. He’d made love to Oliver Wood, that was… that was more than he’d ever dreamed of. Oliver kissed him, and it was chaste and light. Once they were under a sheet, Percy wrapped an arm around Oliver to pull him to his chest, resting his chin on top of Oliver’s head. He could feel Oliver’s arse against his crotch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is… is this okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Oliver yawned. He opened them again to check his watch for the time. “Is it alright if… I stay here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” Percy whispered. “Night, Ollie,” Percy added, kissing the mess of brown hair. It was so warm and comfortable… Percy thought about his clothes scattered through the flat. About how naked he was and how Oliver was already half-asleep in his arms. Oliver’s head turned to look at Percy, his eyes barely open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Percy frowned slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer beautiful,” Oliver mumbled, his head slumping against the pillows, falling asleep not long after. Percy kissed the back of Oliver’s head again, rubbing his hand against the Quidditch’s player’s chest. Oliver didn’t snore, or make any noise, completely dead to the world -- but Percy could feel his heartbeat, a steady and gentle thump, thump. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a lullaby, and Percy, too tired to fight the tiredness, fell asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We've been waiting to post this for five weeks and I hope it was worth it! Thank you so much for your comments, and we hope you enjoyed this as much as we did. Any and all feedback is appreciated. The last installment will be posted next Friday, see you then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Other Unruly Patient</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Aha! The final chapter. Thank you to everyone who's followed us on this six week journey. We hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I now pronounce you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anticipating the end of the end of the sentence, Ginny launched herself into Harry’s arms as though he might run away. That seemed unlikely, given how the groom swept her into a kiss with such a passion that Percy felt the need to look at his polished dress shoes for a few seconds. When the couple finally stood upright again, linking hands and gazing joyfully into one another’s eyes, Percy couldn’t help but grin at how happy his younger sister looked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pastor cleared his throat. “Husband and wife,” he finished the sentence, chuckling. “You may now kiss the-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>the bride</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said loudly as the couple again anticipated the end of a sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the hundreds of wizards and witches at Potter Manor whooped and cheered, Ginny triumphantly held up Harry’s hand like it was the Quidditch pennant. Harry didn’t seem to mind, scooping Ginny into his arms and waltzing back down the aisle. Ginny laughed, burrowing into Harry’s side and reaching a hand up to prevent Aunt Muriel’s goblin-made tiara from tumbling onto the grass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Potter-Weasley wedding was far from a dull affair and Percy had no idea how they’d managed to plan such an event in only six months. He assumed it had something to do with the maneuverings of a certain Weasley matriarch and the endless budget of the sole Potter heir, but it was everything Ginny Weasley deserved. Hundreds had gathered, partaking in the festivities. The entire Quidditch League must have been in attendance, although Oliver had happily noted that morning that Marcus Flint had not received an invitation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Oliver, his boyfriend seemed to be impossible to find all day. The core group of groomsmen had wrangled Harry into his dress robes most of the afternoon while Percy assisted with the set up, and during the ceremony they’d been standing at opposite ends of the line. Ginny seemed to notice the distraction as he danced with her to another slow orchestral piece. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least Charlie </span>
  <em>
    <span>talked, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Percy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Percy grinned, twirling Ginny under his arm and stepping into another pattern. “I’ve said you look beautiful. And you did an excellent job with the wedding. Did you marry Harry as an excuse to plan it? You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>intend </span>
  </em>
  <span>to marry him, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Added bonus,” Ginny winked, following Percy’s lead. “And when are you planning--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Ginny teased him about being the last unmarried Weasley -- well, Charlie was unmarried, but nobody seemed to keep him in that statistic -- Percy humored her. He and Oliver had only been together six months, after all, there wasn’t any rush to the altar. (Not that Percy would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>minded </span>
  </em>
  <span>an excuse to rush to the altar. Not that he’d tell Ginny that.) When the song came to a close, Fred tapped Percy’s shoulder and he handed Ginny off to the next brother with a kiss to the cheek. Fred, slightly wobbly on his feet, looked slightly offended and pointed at his own cheek. Percy rolled his eyes, kissing Fred’s cheek as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy sought a glass of wine, hoping to wait for Oliver to appear, but found numerous dance partners instead. His mother snatched him almost immediately, followed by Fleur, Angelina, Hermione, and even Lee. Victoire latched onto his legs, and Percy lifted her onto his feet to waltz her along the edge of the dance floor while Bill did the same with Dominique. When he gained a brief respite from the dance floor, finally enjoying the wine, Percy caught sight of Oliver mingling in the crowd. He looked spectacular -- Harry Potter had excellent choice in dress robes and his groomsmen benefited from it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver didn’t meet his eyes, too busy talking to one of his teammates. It gave Percy a few minutes to admire his boyfriend -- the broad shoulders framed by dark blue robes, his brown hair teased into position with several handfuls of mousse, his eyes sparkling with delight. Percy slipped through the crowd, waiting for the conversation to finish before he slid his hand into Oliver’s and whispered a greeting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver grinned, nuzzling into Percy’s side and landing a few kisses to the side of his neck. Oliver was a few drinks in, as if he was already ready to sneak off to a bedroom. Then again, Percy had only had one glass of wine and he’d considered apparating home to get some privacy with his boyfriend. Blushing, Percy reminded himself that a groomsman and usher couldn’t disappear less than an hour into his sister’s wedding celebrations. Kissing Oliver lightly, Percy suggested they dance instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shall I lead?” Percy held Oliver’s hand, guiding him to the floor. Oliver murmured in agreement, licking his lips as he looked Percy up and down. Merlin’s beard, it would be a long night of waiting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though Oliver had agreed to let him lead, they occasionally slipped up and forgot who was stepping forwards and at what time. They recovered quickly, only bumping into one another for a brief second before their footing was found again. It wasn’t long before their minds were on the same track, moving (almost) seamlessly through the crowded dance floor. Although this was the first wedding they had attended together, Percy couldn’t imagine going to one with anyone else. It had been the best six months of Percy’s life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver hummed along to the music, taking the lead again and trying to dip Percy into a kiss. Although it wasn’t even a part of this particular dance, Percy complied, resting a hand on Oliver’s cheek as they briefly kissed. The kiss lasted a bit longer than intended and Percy’s blush built as Oliver secured him in his arms and nipped at his jawline, capturing his lips in kiss after kiss. Good lord, Percy’s mother was standing around here somewhere. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Both </span>
  </em>
  <span>of their mothers were standing around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy giggled, forcing a slight frown. “How much have you had to drink?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver straightened up again, chuckling softly as he rested his chin on Percy’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going tae make it up tae ye,” Oliver whispered, his words slurring together. Percy started a gentle scolding about how the wedding had hardly started and it was rude for Oliver to take such a strong lead in the ‘which of us will be drunk first’ race. Oliver ignored him, nibbling at Percy’s earlobe. Stifling a moan, Percy rubbed his boyfriend’s lower back as he glanced around. Twenty minutes, they needed to disappear for twenty minutes -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten minutes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, maybe less. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only a few,” Oliver stopped his nibbling, finally answering Percy’s question. He had a confident grin on his face. Whatever “a few” was, Percy knew he’d need to catch up by the end of the night. Forget post-stag do sex, post-wedding sex would easily top the list. Even if they weren’t the couple in question -- not this time, anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Drink with me?” Oliver stepped off the dance floor as the song ended, his hand running down Percy’s back. The sparkling brown eyes gazed seductively up at him, and Oliver licked his lips as Percy pondered a reply. Could he outdrink Oliver Wood? Possibly. Would his liver ever forgive him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Percy could accept his imminent intoxication, Oliver giggled leaning in to whisper in Percy’s ear, “Want to know what I’m going to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, the frisky Oliver had returned after a few minutes absence. Oliver’s hand creeped up to the root of Percy’s hair, threatening to mess it up. He nipped at Percy’s earlobe again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver Malcolm Wood,” Percy cleared his throat, trying (and failing) to sound disapproving. He tilted his head to give Oliver’s cheek a chaste kiss. Oliver pressed further against him -- if there was a wall nearby, Percy would surely have been pinned to it by now. What Oliver described was far from chaste. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take it slow -- the way ye like,” Oliver purred, his hand wrapping around the back of Percy’s neck and tugging at his collar. “Lick every--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy whispered nervously, hoping nobody was eavesdropping on their conversation. To be safe, he shuffled back a few steps. The movement only allowed Oliver to push further into Percy’s chest as he continued his temptation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every inch of yer body -- push ye down on the bed and tear those fancy robes off,” Oliver let out a warm breath against Percy’s neck. Percy mumbled Oliver’s name to no avail. “Don’t ye want me, Perce? Licking yer neck,” he gave a wet kiss under Percy’s jaw. “Looking down at ye, my hand on yer--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy repeated, glancing at his trousers. The blood was already rushing south, but Percy still had enough of his sense to take a deep breath and lean back slightly from Oliver’s grasp. “Not here, love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy added silently, tucking a piece of Oliver’s hair back into place. Even with all the product they’d used that morning, it was still outside the laws of physics and magic. He mused aloud about how frisky Oliver got when he drank whiskey, which inspired a snogging session at the edge of the tent, hardly out of view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron hurried past, but the groom managed to stop and raise an eyebrow at the pair. Percy’s face must have been beet red as he stood up and wrapped an arm defensively around Oliver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glad to see I won’t be the only one getting something tonight,” Harry snorted, slapping Oliver’s shoulder encouragingly. Ron seemed on the verge of a joke as well when he reminded Harry they needed to find something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ron -- seriously what do you mean you lost it?” Harry groaned, hurrying away without an explanation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do ye think he lost?” Oliver resumed his stance, pressing up against Percy’s side and kissing whatever was accessible to him. At this moment, it was Percy’s hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to know,” Percy sighed. “Why don’t we have something to eat, Ollie? I’d rather not have you get sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Percy shouldn’t get drunk… Oliver needed someone to apparate him home at this rate, and taking the Floo might be too dangerous--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get another round of drinks?” Oliver offered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck staying sober, Percy decided. To answer his boyfriend’s suggestion, Percy slowly dragged his hand down Oliver’s chest, playfully raising his eyebrows. His hand pushed aside Oliver’s robes, hitting against something in the man’s pockets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Percy smiled, hoping Oliver would pull out his flask. Maybe he’d snuck some of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>scotch into the wedding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s what?” Oliver’s eyes lazily scanned Percy’s form, his lips parting slightly. Oh, they were going to have an </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible </span>
  </em>
  <span>night. That meant not getting sick from an empty stomach, so Percy dragged Oliver over to a plate of hors d’oeuvres before they approached the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were plenty of people to talk to, plenty of food to eat, plenty of wine and champagne to drink… but Percy found it hard to do anything besides stare at Oliver Wood. His boyfriend rarely dressed up beyond a blazer and jeans, but tonight he was in the finest dress robes Percy had ever seen. Even better than the white jacket he’d worn at the Gala. Regardless of what Oliver was wearing, Percy was simply happy to have Oliver’s hand in his own, enjoying the wedding feast.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Percy brushed his thumb against the back of Oliver’s hand as they walked over to watch the fireworks. Percy’s face was trapped in a permanent blush, on account of the moderate supply of wine he’d taken in. But he would have blushed anyways as Oliver held up his hand and kissed the knuckles one by one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every inch,” he purred again. His eyes were nearly closed, but he batted his eyelashes at Percy and whispered in a husky voice, “I love ye so much, Perce, I could--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A boom erupted in the sky and lights flashed everywhere. Percy grinned, tugging Oliver to sit down and snuggle up with him as the explosions continued. The twins probably spent a fortune on the supplies. Although, based on how they stumbled around all evening, Percy hoped they spent even more on hiring other people to set off the fireworks. It was a healer’s nature (and an older brother’s tendency) to worry. Although, it was hard to be tense or nervous when he was cuddled up to Oliver, enjoying the display. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the sky was completely dark and the echoes of the final fireworks faded away, the only sound heard was the cracks of guests apparating and people talking softly as they walked back to the manor house. Oliver was breathing slowly, still pressed into Percy’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie, love are you--” Before Percy could ask if his boyfriend was asleep, he was greeted with a passionate kiss, toppling him backwards into the grass. Oliver rested an arm on the ground behind Percy’s head, clearly forgetting where they were. The last bottle of champagne almost tempted Percy to follow along with it, regardless of whether it was the front lawn of Potter Manor. It was dark out, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need tae make it up to ye,” Oliver mumbled into Percy’s jacket, pulling him into a tight hug. Percy caught sight of his father in the distance, entering the tent to clean up. Percy loosened the grip enough to stand, brushing back Oliver’s hair again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you will,” Percy replied, hearing his words slur slightly. “We’ll go home in a minute, alright, Ollie? I’m… I’m supposed to help with the tables.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do it tomorrow,” Oliver mumbled with frustration, collapsing back into the grass. Fred and George, their hair slightly singed and still smoking from the fireworks, jogged over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still alive, then?” Percy laughed. “I’m going to say goodbye to Dad, he asked me to stack the tables earlier -- watch Oliver, will you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins tumbled down to the grass, probably waiting for their own partners to discover them and drag them home. Percy brushed off the grass on his trousers, walking towards the tent. A few others were already assisting, though his other siblings had either departed or were practically passed out somewhere on the premises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Mum?” Percy pulled out his wand, shifting a few chairs to the side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill asked her to watch the kids,” Arthur replied, yawning. “Percy, I appreciate the help but you can head home, let the old folks--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll move the tables, I promised,” Percy brushed off the suggestion, flicking his wand at the large stack of tables in the center of the tent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy may have underestimated how many drinks he had that night. Or perhaps the continuing celebration outside was too much of a distraction. It could also have been his relentless imagination, summoning up every event that Oliver had described. Whatever it was, Percy miscalculated his levitation of the heavy stack of tables, sending them a few feet off course. Placing tables incorrectly was bad, but landing them on top of himself…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy screamed as the tables collapsed on top of him, crushing him to the ground. He screamed again as he wrench an arm free, fumbling for his wand as his father rushed over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wingardium Leviosa,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur removed the weight and knelt down by Percy’s side. Percy tried to sit up, but found himself quite unable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move me,” Percy said through gritted teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is everybody alright?” James Potter ducked into the tent. No, everybody was not alright. But even in Percy’s slightly addled mind, he knew there was no reason to panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Percy said, angling his wand at an odd angle to perform a diagnostic. “I’m a healer, I can do this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technically, diagnostics weren’t supposed to be performed on oneself, as the results weren’t always complete. As Percy deciphered the blinks of his wand with as straight a face as he could summon, he sincerely hoped he hadn’t missed any injuries -- what he had was enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few more people stumbled into the tent, a worried Oliver among them. “Percy!” He shouted, escaping the twins’ grasp and rushing to his side. “Can I pick ye up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Percy said quickly, shaking his head as he pressed it back into the ground. “Sit down, Ollie, don’t-- don’t move me. I… I… err… threw out my back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m calling the hospital,” James disappeared, despite Percy’s protests. Fred and George towered over him, watching the scene unfold. Thank goodness his mother wasn’t there, otherwise she’d have dissolved into hysterics at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, I can pick ye up,” Oliver repeated, blinking at Percy. His eyes were wide, the brown almost disappearing with the dilation from the alcohol. “I… I can kiss it better, aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, Wood,” George giggled. “Kiss it better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if that was medically advisable. Percy waved his other hand to distract his drunk boyfriend. “Hold my hand, okay? Dad, tell Mr. Potter to request a Sobering Potion, Ollie’s my medical contact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My, my, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>medical contact</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Perce, y-y-you certainly don’t waste time,” Fred hiccuped. Oliver didn’t seem to notice the jab, crawling over to hold Percy’s hand, occasionally lifting it to kiss the back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arthur, the only fully sober one of the group, kept saying that help was on the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer hurt,” Oliver whispered softly, kissing Percy’s palm delicately, as though he’d break it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Percy insisted, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the searing pain in his back. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ll… I’ll lie down for a few minutes. Be back up before you know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, what’s--” His father began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Percy answered quickly, squeezing Oliver’s hand tightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He can’t feel his legs,” Fred chimed in. Percy could barely tilt his head up, but he glared at his brother anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Percy retorted, noting how hard it was to find the energy to reply at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been kicking your legs for a few minutes, you can’t feel them,” George swung his leg and delivered a swift kick. Arthur harshly told the twins off, but Percy groaned, realizing he did not, in fact, have any feeling in his lower half. The diagnostic spell had been accurate, then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, you said you threw out your back,” Arthur brushed back his hair, fixing Percy’s skewed glasses. He patted Percy’s thigh, though nothing came of it. “Can you really not feel your legs?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, it’s-- I’ve fractured my spine, that’s all,” Percy glanced at Oliver, whose jaw had dropped slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s all?” Arthur gave an exasperated sigh. “Thank Merlin that James called the Mediwizards, Percy--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In three places,” Percy added quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His family waved goodbye as Percy was loaded into the back of a medical transport. Oliver regretfully took the sobering potion, vomiting the entire trip to St. Mungo’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, love?” Percy mumbed as the Mediwizards strapped him to the stretcher, carefully not to adjust him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright?” Oliver threw up again as they arrived, the entire contents of his stomach emptying into a spare bucket. “Percy, ye snapped yer </span>
  <em>
    <span>spine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ye could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Percy scoffed. “It’s a minor injury.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he and Oliver bickered over the severity of his injury (Percy bickered, Oliver fretted), they arrived at St. Mungo’s and Percy dreaded being recognized. Fortunately, they brought him into the A&amp;E immediately and set him up in a side room. As a healer examined him, Percy continued to point out that everything was under control and he’d make a full recovery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye tried to lift too many tables, didn’t ye--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I lifted the </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact </span>
  </em>
  <span>amount I am capable of,” Percy growled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Weasley,” the healer interrupted. “I’d like to administer some pain medication. There are significant side effects and I can--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“I’ll take them,” Percy answered. The healer nodded, placing the bottle in his hand and guiding it to his mouth. He sipped slowly, staring at his boyfriend intently. Smacking his lips as he pulled the bottle away, Percy scrunched his nose at Oliver. “</span><em><span>See</span></em><span>,</span> <span>Ollie? It’s not that hard.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver shot him an annoyed glance, but stayed in the seat by the examination table, stroking Percy’s hair as the healers continued their work. They kept calling him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Weasley </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it took everything in Percy’s power not to correct them. That’s the last thing he needed, to show up to work on Monday morning and--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Weasley, we’re going to reattach your spinal cord,” the healer said. “This will hurt--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Percy mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the first break snapped back into place, Percy let out a blood curdling scream and everything went dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy blinked awake. He was in a nice, soft bed… it was his bed! This was fantastic, he loved his bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy mumbled, tilting his head to the side. Much to his displeasure, Oliver was nowhere to be found. He must have gone for another early run -- for Merlin’s sake, they’d been at the wedding and the hospital all night, did he need to get his heart rate up </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Percy tried to get up but was sorely disappointed to find out he was unable. It was as though someone had locked his back to the bed, pinning him in place. “Ollie,” he said louder. “Ollie!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bedroom door swung open and a dim light filtered into the room. Oliver, still in his handsome dress robes, appeared. The dress robes weren’t tucked in, and they were ruffled. Oliver must have slept on the couch -- that was silly. They had this nice bed, and Oliver should have slept in the bed with Percy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Percy, how are ye feeling?” Oliver yawned and shuffled over. He pulled up a chair, combing through Percy’s hair. When Oliver began to pull his hand away, Percy craned his neck to stay close, whining for Oliver to play with his hair again. Oliver chuckled, digging his fingers deeper into Percy’s curls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy wanted to play with Oliver’s hair, but the restraints prevented him from moving anything but his arm. That was enough distance to slip a hand under Oliver’s shirt, teasing his stomach . “You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>handsome</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ollie.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver laughed again -- what a beautiful laugh -- and removed Percy’s hand, tucking it back under the blankets. “Do ye remember what happened, love?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tables,” Percy answered. Of course he remembered, he’d been there. Already tired of the medical conversation that Oliver was trying to lead, Percy tugged on his boyfriend’s jacket to get his attention. “Ollie, can we have sex?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, ye fractured yer spine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy frowned as Oliver gave what was clearly a half-assed excuse to get out of what he’d promised. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>said you’d lick </span>
  <em>
    <span>every inch </span>
  </em>
  <span>of my body,” Percy grumbled. “Ollie, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He yanked Oliver’s sleeve a few times but the Keeper gently broke his grip and put his hand back onto the bed. “Percy, I promise that as soon as yer healed, we can have as much sex as you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Break my back again?” Percy smiled. He reached a hand again, but only rested it on Oliver’s knee. Oliver allowed it, patting his hand on top of Percy’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, but maybe not in three places,” Oliver chuckled, leaning over to kiss his forehead. Percy huffed, wishing Oliver would straddle him and snog the living daylights out of him. He’d been injured, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved </span>
  </em>
  <span>it after all he’d been through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get some rest,” Oliver stood up, and Percy mourned the distance between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not tired,” Percy sighed. “What time is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Err…” Oliver fumbled in his pockets for his watch. “Half past seven. Oh, I called into yer work, ye have the week off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t miss--” Percy tried to protest, but accepted his fate. Not going to work meant more time with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ollie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. More time talking to Ollie, more time snuggling with Ollie, and right now, more time watching Ollie get dressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a good healer,” Percy said, blinking at Oliver. The bags under his eyes only made the brown irises seem richer, and the scruff on his cheeks gave him a rugged handsomeness, like a cowboy or a pirate. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I love ye,” Oliver replied, shedding the jacket of his dress robes on the chair next to Percy before walking towards the closet. Percy reached out, pulling the jacket onto him and fiddling around with it. A few galleons tumbled out of the pocket and Percy seized them, holding them up to the light. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You should dress up more often,” Percy glanced at Oliver, who had pulled off his shirt. Oliver replied with a comment about how uncomfortable dress robes were, but it took Percy’s brain a few seconds to think again as he looked longingly at Oliver’s chest. Percy wished Oliver walked around shirtless. No, he wished that Oliver walked around in nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Percy said again, a smile spreading across his cheeks. “Ollie, I love you so much. You’re so good to me, and you look very good in dress robes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver thanked him, and Percy quickly added how fuckable Oliver looked in dress robes. Tragically, the compliment did not seduce Oliver into the bed and Percy miserably watched as his boyfriend dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy whined loudly. “Why won’t you kiss me? Don’t you love me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I love ye,” Oliver smiled, crossing the room to sit next to Percy again. This time, Percy got a kiss on the cheek. If he kept whining, maybe Oliver would actually snog him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love… the way ye brew coffee for me, even when I dinnae ask for it. I love yer passion for work, how ye work so hard… and how ye always send me a note when yer coming back late.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy melted as Oliver’s hand stroked his cheek. “Of course I write notes, I love your cooking. You give me leftovers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love that ye eat the leftovers and still order take away once I’ve gone to bed,” Oliver laughed, kissing Percy’s forehead. “What else…yer so soft, even if nobody else thinks so. And yer hair is always perfect, even when yer lying in bed,” he brushed through Percy’s hair. “And… yer nose is just right, very proper. And I love every single freckle, even if I can’t count them -- yer crooked glasses, and how I always have to push them up,” Oliver peppered his face in kisses and Percy giggled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should have done this when you were at St. Mungo’s,” Percy tried to sit up, but Oliver eased him back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer back -- bedrest for two days, aye?” Oliver kissed his forehead again. “Not sure that would have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>professional</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Percy--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but it would have been fun,” Percy mumbled. “Though, I did get to see your arse. I love your arse. Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice arse?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice arse. Especially now that it was midseason. Thank god for Puddlemere United’s training regimen, it was a gift to Percy’s sex life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, ye’ve said it before,” Oliver laughed. He had the most magnificent laugh, and Percy closed his eyes to listen to it more intently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy was about to list all the other reasons he loved Ollie when somebody knocked on the door to their flat. Oliver kissed his forehead again, promising he’d return with breakfast and his next round of potions. Percy sighed. He missed Oliver already. The bedroom was so big and lonely and Percy couldn’t even sit up. Maybe he could levitate his television -- damn, his wand was on the dresser. Maybe Ollie’s wand was in his jacket…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The jacket from Oliver’s dress robes was still on Percy’s lap, and he fiddled around with it to dig through the pockets. Empty… a few galleons… a program from the wedding… how many pockets did Oliver need? Did Quidditch Keepers have much to carry? Maybe there was a broomstick in one of these pockets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While he didn’t find a wand, Percy ended up with a small pile of treasures to play with until his boyfriend returned. The galleons were fun for a few moments, easily stacked and rubbed together, but Percy set them aside. Reading the program and the numerous shopping receipts gave him a headache. The miniature bottle of alcohol was tempting, but Percy’s healer senses told him it would probably interfere with his potions regimen. He grabbed the last item, a small black box that had been in the interior pocket. Percy played with the hinges first, opening the box… snapping it shut. Opening it, snapping it shut. Finally, he held it up above his face and gasped. It was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Where had Ollie been hiding </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a ring in the box, a silver band with a narrow strand of sparkling jewels -- diamonds, perhaps, Percy was never good at remembering which gem was which. Percy stared at the ring, marveling at how the bedroom lights glinted off the stones. If he looked closely, he could see a rainbow of colors bursting at the center of each stone under the light. It was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>enchanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>ring. He wondered why he’d never seen Ollie wearing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy could only hear muffled talking in the next room. Oh well, the questions would have to wait. But Ollie wouldn’t mind if Percy tried on the very pretty ring, his boyfriend loved sharing things. Removing it from the box, Percy held the ring above his face and grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every angle revealed a new detail -- an inscription of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Love, Ollie</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a pattern of miniature runes running along the band. He couldn’t help but slip it on, pleased to find it already fit him. It was probably small for Oliver… maybe it fit on his pinky. Oliver was a size 10.5. Percy modeled his hand in mid-air, grinning at how perfect the ring looked. He couldn’t wait to see Ollie wearing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the door opened, Percy rolled his head to the side with a silly, tired smile on his face. “Hi,  Ollie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy, Charlie came to visit,” Oliver stepped in, giving Charlie space to slide in. Charlie wasn’t in his dress robes anymore, having chosen a (mum-approved) jumper and jeans instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better, Percy?” Charlie smiled reassuringly. “Mum sent chocolates--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did she send rum and raisin fudge?” Percy perked up. That was his absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>favorite. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charlie laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that ye should be having sugar,” Oliver chimed in. He had a small frown on, and he leaned against the doorway with crossed arms. He was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>caring</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And he had excellent taste in rings, Percy remembered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy smiled, holding out his hand to show the ring. “Where did you buy this? It’s very pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What--” Oliver froze in place. “Percy, did ye go through my pockets?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was bored,” Percy shrugged (well, the closest thing to a shrug given his current predicament). He went back to staring at the gemstones, tilting his hand back and forth to watch the light glint off of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that the--” Charlie looked at Oliver, who nodded. Percy held out his hand again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charlie, do you want to try it on? It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charlie. Look, look, it has Ollie’s name on it--” He began tugging the ring off his finger. Charlie needed to understand how incredible this ring was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, mate,” Charlie stifled a laugh. “I’ll try it on later, yeah? Mum’s… expecting me to run out for some groceries. I think Oliver’s taking </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>care of you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s so great,” Percy smiled. His whole family knew how wonderful Oliver was, he was practically a Weasley already. “Bye, Charlie!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother disappeared and Oliver cautiously approached the bed, taking the seat again. “Percy, umm… here are yer potions. Ye can’t have coffee yet, but I made toast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Percy enjoyed his breakfast (and accepted his potions much more willingly than Oliver ever had), Oliver kept looking at the ring. He didn’t seem angry or sad that Percy had gone through his pockets, but more… nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want the ring back?” Percy said through a mouthful of half-chewed toast. “I think it would look very nice on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s yers,” Oliver replied. “Too… too fancy for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy glanced at the ring again. What a wonderful gift! He supposed it suited him better than Oliver. After all, Oliver had never taken Ancient Runes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I’m wearing a ring, you should wear a ring,” Percy grabbed Oliver’s hand, holding it next to his. Oliver’s hand looked so bare without one. His mind searched for a solution -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>aha</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have one for you, it’s in the little box hidden in the globe on my bookshelf. Go get it, Ollie, hurry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Part of Percy’s brain was reminding him that the ring was supposed to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>secret </span>
  </em>
  <span>until their first anniversary. Percy felt a bit reckless, buying a ring so quickly… but he’d seen it in the store and it was perfect for Oliver. Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, but did as he was told, returning from the living room with the small ring box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Err… is this what yer talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy nodded. He tugged on Oliver’s shirt to get him to sit down. “Give it to me, I want to put the ring on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy took the box and opened it, sighing happily at the golden ring and its thistle pattern. “You can wear it, but I have to give it to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver was staring at the ring box, but nodded in response. “Aye, that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy grabbed Oliver’s hand, putting the ring on his finger. His coordination was off, so Oliver had to help with putting it on all the way, but it looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, I can’t ask you to marry me </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Oliver laughed, admiring the ring and looking back at Percy. “Perce, you’re already wearing an engagement ring.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An engagement--” Percy looked back at his silver ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was going to wait until yer off medication, but… will ye marry me? I can ask again tomorrow.” Oliver was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>considerate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Percy nodded, taking his hand back and flashing the ring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Ollie, it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why didn’t you ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>sooner</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It would have matched my tie yesterday…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy continued mumbling about all the things he could have worn the ring with when Oliver kissed his forehead. His boyfriend -- no, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiancé -- </span>
  </em>
  <span>was giggling endlessly and Percy joined in. “Ollie, will you marry me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye,” Oliver kissed him, and Percy tried to extend the kiss, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. Oliver had climbed onto the bed next to him, carefully nuzzling his side. “Dinnae worry, I’ll give the ring back and ye can forget this--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want to forget,” Percy smiled, closing his eyes. Oliver tried to move away, but Percy grumbled and latched on to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye need tae rest,” Oliver chuckled, placing a kiss to Percy’s forehead. “What was it ye said? Don’t ruin my work, aye?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Ollie.” Percy yawned, pressing his head into the pillow and humming as Oliver tucked him in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, as the pain relieving potion wore off and Percy was allowed to sit up, he was displeased to note that the ring was no longer on his finger. Oliver came in with a plate of cut up fruit, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t wearing a ring either. Had it been a dream? No, that wasn’t possible. That mean Oliver had taken off the rings </span>
  <em>
    <span>while Percy was sleeping</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The betrayal, the disgrace, how could he--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Percy,” Oliver placed the breakfast on the bedside table and leaned down to kiss Percy’s head. Percy huffed in response, crossing his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could have said no,” Percy grumbled, reclining into the pillows and flinching at the sensitivity in his spine. The bone strengthening solution was still at work. Why had his drugged mind insisted on wearing rings? Why hadn’t Oliver hidden his ring better? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy looked down at their bare hands. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was too soon--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ye remembered,” Oliver gave an apologetic smile and scratched his head. Ah, Percy must have misremembered events. He’d probably buggered it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Err… I thought ye’d want to wait until after the potions wore off -- wasn’t sure it counted--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>think it should,” Percy mumbled quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for a moment as Oliver paced alongside the edge of the room. “Well,” Oliver thought for a moment, opening the sock drawer next to him and removing two small boxes. “I’m sorry I hid them, ye said ye were waiting a few more months-- I dinnae want ye to regret--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t regret it,” Percy bit his lip, looking up. The previous day, while slightly foggy in his memory, had been perfect as far as Percy was concerned.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do it proper then,” Oliver grinned, approaching the bed. He looked as handsome as ever with his ruffled hair, bags under his eyes, in his pyjamas. He groaned softly as he got down on one knee, stretching his back and letting out another yawn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Percy Weasley, yer the love of my life, will ye--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy grabbed the other ring box, tearing it open. “Oliver, will you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me finish, yer as bad as yer sister,” Oliver shook his head, laughing. “Will ye marry me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Percy grinned. He wanted to kiss him, but figured he should ask the same -- they both had rings after all. Once Oliver slid the glittering engagement ring onto Percy’s finger, he sat on the bed. Percy leaned forwards to give Oliver space to slide behind him, resting his head on Percy’s shoulder. “It might not be… medically advisable to try and kneel--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ken ye would if ye were able,” Oliver kissed his cheek. Percy took Oliver’s hand, rubbing the ring finger as he turned his head to look at Oliver’s deep brown eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver Wood, will you marry me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver replied with a kiss, but Percy insisted that if they were doing it </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he needed a verbal answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, ye beautiful idiot, I love ye,” Oliver giggled, burying his face in Percy’s shoulder. They kissed a bit longer and unfortunately, Oliver listened to the healer’s orders that any “strenuous activity” wait a few days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His family -- and Oliver’s, for that matter -- would be ecstatic once they heard the news. Charlie might have told them already. But right now, Percy was content resting against his fiancé’s chest, listening to his slow and steady breathing. That was Percy’s favorite sound in the world, Oliver Wood resting next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ollie,” Percy murmured, looking down at the rings again. Although they looked completely different, Percy felt like they matched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, love?” Oliver rolled over, kissing Percy again as he gazed lovingly at him. Percy almost forgot what he was talking about, completely distracted by Oliver’s affection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This feels right,” Percy nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s because it is right,” Oliver gave a slight smile, resting a hand on Percy’s heart. Yes, Percy decided. This was right. And he wouldn’t change a single thing about it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sure the Weasley family will be thrilled to plan yet another wedding, especially one where both grooms are extremely fussy and intense. If you have any questions about Percy and Oliver's future (or how the fam reacted to the impromptu medicated proposal), drop a comment below -- I guarantee we talked about possible answers as we tried to figure out where to end this fic. While we won't be posting for a while... we already have a few other fic ideas in the works. Thank you so much for your kudos and comments, every time I saw one it genuinely made my day during these complicated times. We couldn't have written this without your support. Stay safe everyone &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed it! Please comment below. </p><p>There are some changes to canon. The Wizarding Wars never took place, so Percy became a Healer rather than a Ministry official. His birthday is later, so he ended up a year behind Oliver. There are a lot of other universe changes that we aren't going to examine, but I assume Wolfstar is canon?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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